


built upon the small, everyday things

by ultramarcypan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Getting Together, M/M, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou - Freeform, atsukita week 2020, implied Ushijima/Sakusa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultramarcypan/pseuds/ultramarcypan
Summary: His point, before he forgets it in favor of lamenting how unfair life is, is that he’s a good-ish person who would’ve been much more prepared to adjust to dorm life on his own if he’d just eaten his twin in the womb when he’d had the chance.Especially if dorm life involved a very attractive roommate that he totally didn't have a crush on, not even a tiny bit, no sir.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 65
Kudos: 268
Collections: Atsukita Week





	1. new beginnings

What nobody has ever told Atsumu (or, at least, one of the many MANY things he’s heard but chosen to ignore) is just how fucking difficult it is to live independently for the very first time.

In true sibling fashion, he blames Osamu for all his misfortunes. He figures that, bein’ twins and all, he’s already been shot in the foot before he started since he’s lived all of his existence up to this point cohabiting with someone who’s basically his carbon copy. And just how was HE supposed to know that Osamu was going to go to some fancy schmancy culinary school and not get a free ride to the local university on a volleyball scholarship like their (his) dream had always been?

His point, before he forgets it in favor of lamenting how unfair life is, is that he’s a good-ish person who would’ve been much more prepared to adjust to dorm life on his own if he’d just eaten his twin in the womb when he’d had the chance. Tragically, he’s missed his opportunity on that, so he’s got no choice but to squint up at the building that’s going to be his home for the next year. It’s a nondescript building as far as it goes; the paint is an off white and peeling in places on the outside, and there are widows spaced out all along the six stories. There’s a muffled curse from behind, a loud thunk, and that’s all the warning he gets before he topples forward as something collides with his head.

“Motherfuc---!” He’s cut off as something else is flung at him, halfway through him whipping around to glare at his assailant. This object bounces off harmlessly, and he’s able to identify it as his pillow when it falls to the ground.

“Ya look dumber than usual with that slack jawed look on yer face, so how ‘bout ya actually help us unpack yer shit instead?” Osamu doesn’t look the least bit remorseful for assaulting his brother in broad daylight. He probably isn’t.

“Don’t think it counts as unpacking when ya just fling shit at me.” He sniffs. “Ya break it you buy it jackass.”

“Good thing all yer shit is garbage then. S’not gonna break the bank if I have to pay you a whole weeks’ worth of our allowance as kids to replace it all.”

Atsumu snarls and takes a step towards his twin, who promptly drops the box he’s been shimmying out of the trunk of the car and braces for impact. The contents in it rattle violently and Atsumu is hit by another wave of regret for not taking his brother out.

“Children, please. Play nice.”

“Stay outta this, Sunarin,” he snaps at Suna, who is perched on the hood of his car hiding a smile as he watches the brothers square off. “I’m doin’ what I shouda done years ago and takin’ him out.”

“Bring it, ya gnome!” Osamu spreads his arms wide and with the gauntlet thrown like that, Atsumu has no choice but to lunge at him. He’d been standing on the curb, so he actually gets a little bit of a jump on his brother. He’s vaguely celebrating in his mind— _I have the high ground ‘Samu, fuck you_ \---when he realizes that there’s a good three feet or so between him and his target, which means there’s plenty of room for poor unsuspecting souls to walk between them and directly into the unofficial war zone that tends to follow the Miya twins around.

Which is, of course, exactly what happens. Atsumu collides not with his brother but instead with someone who is probably 20 times more innocent than Osamu has ever been in his life. The person, clearly not expecting 160 pounds of raw idiot to tackle them, crumples on impact. They end up on the ground in a pile of limbs and regret.

Somewhere above him, he can hear Suna stifling laughter and Osamu clicking his tongue in judgement. He ignores them both in favor of taking stock of his body, and then hurries to check on the poor unfortunate soul he’s currently crushing. “’m sorry!” He blurts out, and then winces at how strong his accent is. So much for hiding how much of a country boy he is. “Are you alright?”

“Yer crushing me,” the person says and, oh shit, he still is isn’t he. With far less grace then a trained athlete should have, Atsumu rolls off them.

Them turns out to be a young man just a little bit shorter than Atsumu; he’s flat on his back blinking up at the sky with amber eyes so pale they may as well be yellow and so sharp that Atsumu instinctively scoots back a little bit in case the stranger decides to take swift vengeance upon him. The boy sits up and suddenly that gaze is leveled directly at Atsumu and, okay, wow, wasn’t exactly ready to have the wind knocked out of him for the second time but here he is.

“Uhm,” He begins lamely. “I’m really sorry ‘bout that, I was aiming for my brother and I guess…” he lets himself trail off, well aware that saying ‘you got in the way’ is both unfair and inaccurate, even if his pounce would’ve LEVELED his twin had this kinda hot stranger with his pretty eyes and oddly dyed hair not stopped him.

“Do ya often try to start fistfights with yer brother in public?” Suna’s given up on trying to be discreet with his cackling and Atsumu can feel himself turning red.

“More than you’d hope but less than ya think,” Osamu answers for him, and why people think he’s the Nice Twin, Atsumu will never understand. “I’m also sorry ‘bout my idiot brother, are you okay?”

“Fine.” Yellow-eyes picks himself up off the ground and brushes his pants off. After a moment's pause, he extends a hand down to Atsumu to help him off the ground as well. With as much dignity as he can muster, he accepts the hand and lets himself be hauled to his feet.

He learns a few things in the span of the few seconds it takes to right himself:

  1. The stranger has a lot more strength in him than his build would suggest, given how he yanks Atsumu around like he’s nothing
  2. The stranger’s hands are calloused and rough, like he’s spent his whole life using them—something Atsumu, with all his callouses from years of volleyball can appreciate.
  3. The stranger smells oddly good? It’s something earthy and floral that he can’t quite put a name to but is pleasing nonetheless
  4. It’s hard to tell in the sunlight, but Atsumu can just catch the faint glint of a stud on the strangers right ear, which Does Things to his heart
  5. He is exactly as big of a disaster as Suna always rags on him for being, because only he can manage to be flustered by this shockingly broad, nice smelling stranger that he almost killed not two minutes ago.



“Ya probably shouldn’t be fighting in front of the building while people are trying to move in,” and okay, yeah, maybe he DID just almost murder the guy but he shouldn’t be as shamed by that sentence as he is, especially because it really is JUST a sentence. There’s no hidden disappointment or anger in the other’s tone, he says it like he’s observing the weather, like it’s a basic fact of life which, okay, maybe it is.

“Sorry,” he mumbles for the third time, and this time Osamu echoes his apology.

Suna finally hops off the hood of the car and claps his hands together. “I’ll be more diligent as their minder,” the older boy says dryly, dipping his head in the direction of the stranger. “Maybe with any luck we’ll both get moved in before someone has to go to the ER.”

“Best of luck with that.” The stranger says, perfectly serious, and Atsumu’s heart does funny things in his chest again. With a polite bow, he turns and leaves the three of them standing in silence.

It doesn’t last long.

“Done making a scene?” Osamu asks, like he isn’t just as complacent as Atsumu in this whole mess.

“Honestly,” Suna bends to pick up the box that Osamu had dropped. “I can’t take the two of you anywhere nice because Atsumu is a giant child.”

“You’re only siding with ‘Samu because you’re dating him!”

Suna raises a brow. “I’m siding with Osamu for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that you ARE a giant child. One with piss yellow hair because you refuse to use purple shampoo for some unknown reason.” A pause. “And I’m dating ‘Samu.”

“You both suck!” Throwing his hands in the air, Atsumu marches over to the trunk and hauls a duffle bag out of it. “Let’s go get this over with so I can unpack and you two can suck face before you drop ‘Samu off at culinary school.”

“And they said romance is dead.” Suna grins at him, not the least bit bothered by his friends hissy fit. “Now, where are we hauling all this shit again?”

*

“This could’ve been soooooo much easier if you’d just roomed with me, Sunarin.” Atsumu is whining and even he is aware of it but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s also RIGHT.

“Mmm, I hear you and I see the points you’re making but I raise you this: it’s awful bold of you to assume that you and I would’ve both lived to the end of the semester if you and I had roomed together.”

“That’s coward talk and ya know it.” Atsumu halts abruptly in his march down the hall and Suna almost runs into him. “I think this is it.”

“Ya think or ya know?” Osamu pushes himself between his boyfriend and his brother to fix him with an unimpressed stare. “Because it should be as easy as reading the number on the door and makin’ sure it matches the one ya were given. I know readin’ ain’t your strong suit but—“He stops talking to duck out of the way as Atsumu jerks his elbow back at him.

“This is it,” he corrects through gritted teeth. “God, if ya think I’m gonna miss your ugly mug when you leave—”

“My mug is yer mug, dipshit. Comes with the territory of bein’ identical twins.” Osamu reaches out to twist the doorknob of the room experimentally. It turns with no resistance.

“Home sweet home,” Atsumu drawls, shoving the door fully open with his shoulder. They’d gotten to campus pretty early in the morning, so he’s figuring that his roommate likely won’t be there yet. As they crowd into the tiny room, they can see that assumption was wrong.

“Oh.” Says the hot stranger. “We meet again.”

“Fancy meeting you here.” Atsumu wants the ground to open and swallow him whole now. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this uncool before in his life, never mind what his twin has to say on that particular matter. Behind him, he hears Suna and Osamu gag and for once, he can’t even blame them.

“This is my room,” Yellow eyes says in his matter of fact way that Atsumu is beginning to suspect is just his default personality. “Where else would I be on move in day?”

“Yeah Atsumu, where?” Suna shoulders past him to dump the box he’s carried up 3 flights of stairs onto the bed on the vacant side of the room.

“Atsumu?”

It takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s the stranger whose repeated his name in question, not either of the jackasses he associates with on a regular basis. “That’s me!” He says, schooling his face into an overly cheery expression, complete with a megawatt smile. “Miya Atsumu, though most people just call me by my first name to prevent confusion.” He jerks his head back at Osamu to illustrate his point. “I’m an incomin’ freshman this year.”

“Kita Shinsuke,” the hot stranger introduces himself, and now that Atsumu isn’t busy making an ass of himself, it becomes apparent to him that Kita’s accent is even stronger than the twins. “I’ma sophomore. It’s nice ta meet ya.”

“Likewise.” Atsumu accepts the hand that Kita has extended towards him. “I look forward to rooming with ya this year.”

Kita hums in acknowledgement. “Here’s hopin’ I have better odds of stayin’ on my feet when yer brother isn’t around to set you off.”

Atsumu can _feel_ the flush that spreads over his skin like wildfire. “ ‘m still really sorry about that.”

His roommate’s lips twitch upwards in the ghost of a smile. “I’ll live.” He takes a few steps towards the room, stepping past Osamu who is watching the whole ordeal with an odd mix of disgusted glee on his face. “I’m gonna go ask the RA some questions and let y’all unpack in peace.” He hesitates a moment, his hand on the doorknob. “I expect the room to still be in one piece with no bloodstains by the time I get back.”

Suna, who had been rooting through the box he’d dumped on the bed, clears his throat in a poor attempt to hide his snickers and snaps to a salute. “Their keeper is on it, Kita. At the very least, all bloodstains will be cleaned, and bodies removed before you get back, this I swear.”

“I’ll hold ya to it…..?”

“Suna. Suna Rintarou.” Suna gives a jaunty wave to punctuate the statement. “Also a freshman here this year, also living in this dorm, and, unfortunately, friends with the idiot who’s your roommate. I imagine we’ll see each other a good bit this year, so I hope we’ll get along.”

“I hope the same,” Kita says at the exact same time that Atsumu blurts out “Fuck you Sunarin, I’m a delight to be around” which makes his roommate lift a brow at him. Atsumu bites back the instant urge to apologize again on principle. “Behave.”

“Yessir,” Atsumu drawls, tossing his duffle bag onto the bed and only just missing Suna in the process. “You go on ahead, I promise we’ll get to work.” Kita still looks skeptical, but he nods and leaves the room without further comment. The door can’t be shut for more than a millisecond before Osamu lets out a wheeze.

“Ewww ‘Tsumu, could you be MORE of a gay disaster?”

It’s only his promise to Kita (and his intense desire to prove to his hot, older roommate that he can act as a reasonable member of society) that keeps him from decking his twin. “I don’t wanna hear that shit from YOU of all people, ‘Samu; I lived through years of you pining for Sunarin before you pussied up and did something about it.”

“I resent that remark,” Suna says, going back to pawing through the box on the bed. He pulls out a stack of textbooks still in their cellophane wrapping and pulls a face. “Neither of us have ever been anywhere NEAR as bad as you, even at our worst.” With little care, he lobs the books in the direction of the desk that will be Atsumu’s for the rest of the year. They land precariously on the edge and Suna grins in triumph. “And besides, unlike YOU the two of us actually have been in a committed relationship for going on three years now.”

“The fact that you’re dating that toad— “and here, Osamu makes a rude gesture at his twin “—speaks volumes about your sense of taste, Sunarin. Yer not helpin’ yer case.”

“And yer not unpacking so we can be done and go get lunch.” Osamu stares pointedly at him.

“Tell ‘em babe. I love it when you’re food motivated.”

“Fuck off,” Atsumu repeats for the trillionth time that day, teeth gritted. “Start helping then so that Kita-san doesn’t think I’m a huge loser and we can move Suna in before the sun sets!” He stomps over to the duffle bag he’d discarded and starts yanking handfuls of clothes out of it to stuff into his dresser. The sudden stifling silence in the room puts him on edge; he spins from the dresser to see both Osamu and Suna staring at him. “What?”

“Kita- _san_?” Osamu’s eyebrows are in danger of disappearing into his hairline. “Since when were you into honorifics that ma didn’t have to bully ya into using for family members?”

“I imagine it’s been since he discovered that his roommate is a hot upperclassman with killer thighs and shoulders and an ear piercing.” It’s Suna’s turn to be stared at. “ ‘Samu, babe, I love you so much but I also have eyeballs. Kita Shinsuke, with his country drawl and broad ass shoulders, is a full course meal.”

Osamu nods his agreement. “Fair ‘nough. Should’ve figured that ‘Tsumu could only find his manners after useless gay panic sets in.” He shakes his head in mock scorn. Yer so fucked ‘Tsumu.”

“Psh, he WISHES he was fucked.”

“ _Gross_. Accurate. But gross. Don’t ever make me think of my brother being intimate ever again.”

“I am RIGHT here!” Atsumu’s voice pitches higher in his distress. “And I’m this close to leaving you to move in on your own Suna, you bully! And I do NOT have a crush on Kita-san!”

“Do that and good luck getting a ride out of me for the rest of the year.” Suna moves away from the bed and heads to the door himself. “Now come on tweedled-dumb and tweedled-dumber, there are more boxes to get and junk to put away.”

Osamu tails after his boyfriend. “Only if I get to be tweedled-dumb.” The two of them head out of the room, leaving Atsumu to scream into his pillow for a solid minute before he composes himself enough to follow them.

*

As it turns out, Kita really doesn’t seem to be one to hold a grudge. The exchange on that seems to be that he’s able to make you feel instant regret about dumb life choices, and has mastered the art of making you feel judged with just a Look, so that’s fun. Atsumu learns quickly that making the room a mess or even debating skipping classes warrants the Look, so he takes great care moving forward to keep his side of the room tidy and spring up the second his alarm goes off.

Kita’s also a year older than Atsumu is and his major is in Agricultural Science with a minor in Business. Atsumu feels like his life is a whole lot more put together than his own, which doesn’t really have a direction past ‘scrape through college so you have something to fall back on if going pro playing volleyball doesn’t pan out.’

They’re a few weeks into the new semester and Atsumu already feels lost. Syllabus day had been so good, so fun, so easy. They’d lured him into a false sense of security and then knocked him on his ass after his guard had been lowered.

At least volleyball practice provides a welcome distraction from the rest of his life. They meet late in the evenings, long after classes have ended, but the familiar drills and spikes help to ground Atsumu and keep him sane. He’s new to the team but already one of the best members, and that’s only a little bit of his ego talking. He stumbles from the gym after practice every weeknight, sore and tired but feeling fulfilled.

Kita asks him about it the very first night of practice, when he comes home with bruises on his arm that are already starting to purple.

“Didja get jumped on the way back?”

“Naw!” Atsumu laughs, dropping his gym bag onto the floor to kick it under his bed. “Did do a whole buncha practice receives tonight though.” He flings himself onto his bed, rolling as he does so so that he can stare at Kita, who is sitting at his desk with his textbooks open. “I don’t think it ever came up before, but I’m here on a volleyball scholarship.”

Kita’s eyes flash. “Volleyball huh?” He shuts his book and turns in his chair so that he’s angled towards Atsumu. “How long ya been playin’?”

“Since 5th grade so….” he does some quick mental math. “ ‘bout eight years now. My brother and I both picked it up, and we played pretty regularly on our team all throughout middle and high school.”

“What position do ya play?”

“ ‘m a setter. A pretty damn good one too.” Atsumu can’t help the pride that creeps into his voice. It’s a fact: water is wet, 8 AM classes should be illegal, Atsumu is good at volleyball and he desperately wants Kita to know this.

“Hmmm.” His roommate seems to be reflecting on that bold statement. “Well, ya sure can’t be any worse at it than ya are at statistics.”

“They put letters in math!!!” Atsumu flails his hands to emphasize his point. “Math was hard enough when it was just numbers, and then the alphabet had to get involved??”

“They’re just variables.” Kita’s lips are doing the ‘not quite a smile’ twitch that he’s grown to love in just a week. The twitch threatens to become a full-fledged tiny smile as Atsumu whines in protest. “But if ya really need help, lemme see yer homework.”

“Really?” Atsumu sits up, hope coloring his tone. “Really, Kita-san?”

“I’ll look it over and help. I ain’t gonna just solve all the problems for you.”

“That’s fine!” He’s launched himself off his bed to grab his backpack off of his desk chair. “I’ll take whatever I can get!” By the time he’s managed to fish out both his textbook and statistics notebook, Kita has scooted his chair over to Atsumu’s desk. “Are you really good at math, Kita-san?”

His roommate shrugs. “Not the best at it, but I ain’t half bad. And since stats is a gen ed course, all of us had to take it.” He pauses a moment. “Pretty sure I got a 98 in that class.” Atsumu stares. “What?”

“98 is what you call not half-bad?”

“Well, it ain’t like statistics is the hardest kind of math; I have a way harder time if ya want me to do any sort of calculus or geometry. ‘s why I only tutor stats.”

It’s Atsumu’s turn to be caught off guard. “Yer a tutor?”

“Mmhmm. I work for the Academic Success Center on campus. Tutor stats, a couple of 100 level history courses, biology, and anthropology.”

“Well aren’t you fancy,” Atsumu whistles through his teeth. “And ain’t I lucky to have such a smart and talented roommate.”

“Flattery ain’t gonna get you anywhere,” Kita tells him, even as his eyes sparkle. “I’m glad to help ya out, but I expect you to put in as much effort as I would any of my tutees.”

“Deal.” Atsumu thinks a moment. “Hey, Kita-san?”

“Hmm?” Kita’s looking over his notes, nose scrunched up in concentration. Atsumu is overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him abruptly. Instead, he does something only marginally less mortifying as his brain to mouth filter fails to kick in.

“If I pass my first stats test, would ya come watch a game of mine?” He watches as Kita stops mid page turn, heart in his throat. Fuck, maybe that came out too strong. Fuck, why can’t he be just a little bit more like Osamu and be cool for ONCE, fuck why is his brain to mouth filter so bad, fuck—

“One test don’t mean much.” Kita’s says idly, fully flipping the page over. “And my schedule is pretty busy with tutoring and my own work.”

“Oh. Of course.” He can still salvage this. Probably. He’s just opening his mouth to do damage control when Kita speaks again.

“So, if yer midterm is a B+ or higher, then I’ll come to a game. That seems fair, yeah?”

“Oh.” Atsumu says again, just as dumb as the first time. There’s one beat, then another, and his brain finally processes what Kita’s just told him. “Yeah! ‘s fine by me Kita-san! I’ll make ya proud and show ya that I’m a worthy tutee!”

Kita smiles at him fully, and it’s so genuine and bright that Atsumu can feel his chest constrict at it. “I’ll be lookin’ forward to it then.”

*

“Yer a mess,” Osamu tells him, later that night, while Kita is in the shower. He’s trying to remember why he ever thought calling his brother was a good idea to begin with. Vaguely, he thinks it may have something to do with actually missing his twin in a moment of uncertain weakness, but any feelings of affection evaporated the second Osamu answered the phone with ‘ugh, it’s _you_.’

(Nevermind the fact that he’d picked up within half a ring, and absolutely knew that it was Atsumu calling since his contact information would’ve come up. Nevermind the fact that there had been a hint of relief in Osamu’s tone, one that Atsumu also gets because living a week on their own after being with each other for all of their lives had been WEIRD and jarring and he’d needed a sense of normalcy to ground him in this new environment and maybe, just maybe, Osamu was feeling the same way.)

“If I’m a mess, what’s that make you?”

“A goddamn saint for putting up with you for 18 years?” Atsumu snorts, tugging his blanket up to cover him fully. He’s curled up in the corner of his bed, right where it meets the wall. He’s managed to make a decent burrow in the corner made up of his pillows and comforter, as much privacy as he can be afforded in a shared dorm room.

“Delusional too, I think.”

“Didn’t know ya could think, ‘Tsumu. Maybe college was the right thing for you to do after all.” A pause, where Atsumu can hear Osamu munching on something over the line. “Now, if you can keep the whole ‘pining for your roommate’ thing under wraps, it might even make ya a real person.”

“Asshole.” There’s not nearly enough venom in his tone to make Osamu think he’s being serious. “And how’s your first week gone?”

Another loud crunch before Osamu answers him. “Not bad,” his brother tells him around a mouthful of food. “None of my classes are huge and all the freshman are taking the intro courses together, so it’s kinda nice to see familiar faces everywhere.” Atsumu hums in response. “And my roommate seems nice enough—kinda quiet and mousy, but nice. Yamaguchi is his name.”

“Lemme know anytime you’re ready to call it quits and come join me here on a sports scholarship,” Atsumu says, only half joking. “You know Sunarin would drop everything he’s doing to come getcha.”

“Mmmm, nice try but I’m not scared off that easy. I woke up to your face every morning, I’m way tougher than yer average person.” There’s silence for a long moment. “But lemme know if ya want me to visit, ‘Tsumu. Just cause I’m not aiming to play professionally doesn’t mean I can’t drop by and kick your ass in a game occasionally.” Osamu’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, and Atsumu tries not to let that rankle him.

He takes a deep breath and accepts the statement for the olive branch it really is. “Yeah, in yer dreams. But I’ll keep that in mind. We’ll smuggle you onto campus for a weekend or somethin’; bet Sunarin would sex-ile his roommate for you.”

Osamu lets out a snort of laughter. “Or maybe, Komori would just be fine with letting me stay since he’s a considerate human being unlike some people, and gets how much it sucks to be in a long-distance relationship?”

“I’m plenty considerate, thank ya very much.”

“Keep telling yerself that. Maybe you can will good manners into existence along with a passing math grade so yer crush can watch you be a huge show-off on the court.”

“Fuck off, I can pass statistics if I try, ‘specially if Kita-san is gonna tutor me.”

“’Tsumu.” Osamu sounds so damn smug that Atsumu squeezes his phone. The plastic case groans in protest of the rough treatment. “You haven’t gotten above a D in any math class since 6th grade. I know this because I was right there with you in EVERY remedial class. Horny energy isn’t suddenly gonna make ya a whiz at math, and I _know_ you: I’d be amazed if you could focus on anything with Kita teaching ya.”

“For the last time, it’s not a crush!” That comes out a lot louder than he intended, and Astsumu chances a glance to the bathroom door to see if he’s been busted. When it doesn’t swing open, he assumes he’s still in the clear. “Well now I’m gonna do not only to get Kita-san to come to one of my games but also so that I can rub yer stupid face in—“He cuts himself off abruptly as the bathroom door does swing open after all, and Kita steps out. The smaller male is pulling his t-shirt over his head, but there’s still enough skin left for Atsumu to glimpse well sculpted, wet abs and a sliver of snowy skin.

“Call ya later,” Atsumu says, trying hard to keep the strain from his voice. He’s not nearly as successful as he thinks, because his brother cackles loudly in his ear.

“If Kita doesn’t give ya heart attack first!” Osamu sings gleefully at him before killing the call. With a hiss of anger, Atsumu lobs his phone down on his bed. It bounces on the mattress down to the foot, and he kicks at it for good measure, like Osamu will feel the phantom pains somehow.

Kita raises a brow at him, toweling off his wet hair. “Yer brother?”

“The one and only,” Atsumu forces himself to a cheery tone, rolling his eyes. “Don’t know why I bothered checkin’ up on him, since he’s too much of an ass to let things stress him out.”

Kita huffs a soft laugh, which makes Atsumu’s heart rate skyrocket into unhealthy levels that have become his new norm anytime he has prolonged exposure to his roommate. “It’s nice to see you two get along so well.”

“Is it?” The confusion isn’t something Atsumu has to fake. “Thought you said you were fine that day I tackled ya, Kita-san, but now I’m worried you have a concussion or something.”

Kita shakes his head. “It’s clear you two care a lot ‘bout each other.” He tilts his head to glance over Atsumu thoughtfully. “Even if ya both have a real…..aggressive way of showin’ it.”

“Kita-san,” Atsumu whines, sinking further down into his pillow. “How many times am I gonna have to apologize to ya before ya let that incident go?”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Kita’s lips are doing the not-quite-a-smile twitch again. He climbs up onto his bed, pulling his own blanket back as he does so. “You gonna shower?”

Atsumu shakes his head. “Did so after I left the gym from practice already, I’m good.”

“Suit yerself.” Kita’s fully settled himself into bed now. He reaches out to flick off the lamp he keeps on his nightstand, and the room is plunged into darkness with only the faint glow of the streetlamps outside their window to break it in patches. “G’night Atsumu.”

The digital clock on Atsumu’s desk tells him that it’s only 9:30PM, but this early bedtime was established early on as a part of Kita’s strict routine. Besides, if Atsumu is relatively quiet and keeps his phone or laptop light dim, Kita doesn’t seem to mind if he stays up to all sorts of ungodly hours. Not that he makes it much longer past 11 anyway, since the combination of practice and schoolwork takes a big toll on him.

On this particular night, Atsumu shimmies down so that he’s properly lying on his own bed. His feet nudge his phone, and after a bit more wiggling he manages to fish it up and plug it in to the charger on his own nightstand. “Night Kita-san.”

There’s a lot Atsumu wasn’t told (or didn’t listen to) about starting college.

He was never warned against taking 8AM classes, no matter how appealing it sounds to get them over and done with while the day is young. No one ever told him that cafeteria food would still be questionable, that the communal kitchen in dorms should NEVER be touched, that idiots in a dorm building will pull the fire alarm at 3AM and make everyone trudge out in their pajamas barely half awake to line up on the curb while the situation gets sorted. (This last incident is what taught Atsumu to sleep in both his boxers AND a t-shirt, just in case. Suna, the smug asshole, had at least been warm in his tank top and sweatpants while Atsumu had awkwardly wrapped his arms around himself.)

He was never told that he was going to have to go it alone, without Osamu behind him. Never warned that ‘home’, which had always been a presence in his life, would suddenly be two hours away and he’d miss it so much his stomach would cramp if he thought about it too much.

He’d also never been warned that he could with up with a damn amazing roommate that is scarily observant and has the patience of a saint and makes him want to prove desperately worthy of his attention. The same roommate who’d offered to tutor Atsumu in math, who hadn’t been offended at being knocked on his ass day one, who was willing to step out of the room without a word the first time Atsumu had caved and called home to speak with his parents with tears pooling behind his eyes, only to come back with a bottle of water and a tiny candy bar that he left without a comment on Atsumu’s desk.

So yeah, there’s a shitton of things Atsumu wasn’t ready for when he started this semester.

But, staring up at the dark ceiling with nonsensical slices of artificial light smattered around it, knowing that Osamu won’t hesitate to pick up his calls, listening to Kita’s soft breaths just a few feet away from him, he can’t help think that it’s not a terrible start after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written creatively in around four years now and what started as a small project for atsukita week to ease back into writing morphed into a monster fic somehow. It's also kind of a weird take on the week where each chapter will correlate with the prompt for the day, but I tried darn it and that's what matters the most! I've been writing and editing this draft for a whole month now and while I know it isn't perfect, I'm also pretty proud of it, so I hope you enjoy as well!
> 
> And [ here's ](https://twitter.com/atsukitaweek) the link to the official atsukita twitter if you want to look at the prompts/other works!


	2. home

Kita goes home every weekend to visit his grandmother.

This is by far from the oddest thing about him—how can it be, when he also color codes his notes, and organizes his side of the mini-fridge, and gets up at 6 AM EXACTLY every morning, and fills his water bottle precisely twice a day to drink the exact amount of recommended water, and, and….

His point IS that, like clockwork, every Friday evening, Kita packs a weekend bag and heads off to the train station at promptly 4 o’clock so he can be at his grannies place by no later than 6:30 for them to have supper together and he won’t be back until 8 PM sharp on Sunday night. Upon his return, he’ll spend an hour unpacking his bag, laying out his clothes for the next day, and looking over all his schoolwork one more time before turning in to bed at 9.

It’s oddly endearing, as so many things about him are.

Of course, Atsumu doesn’t learn this about him until a full month and a half into the semester. He’s squinting at his history textbook, like the dates will magically brand themselves into his head before his first test if he just stares at them hard enough. Kita ducking under his bed to pull out a black duffel bag is far more interesting, however, and Atsumu gives up studying as a lost cause for the time being.

“Whatcha doin’, Kita-san?”

Kita doesn’t even glance over at him. “Packin’ a bag to go home this weekend.”   


“Oh?” Kita’s not an unfriendly roommate by any means, but he’s also not very talkative and certainly doesn’t offer information about himself without being prodded into it. Hell, it had taken a full two weeks for Atsumu to pry from the other what his class schedule was. “Gonna go visit yer parents?”

“My grannie,” Kita corrects, rummaging in his dresser for clothes. He stacks them neatly into his bag, shoving the drawers shut and moving to pluck some things from his desk.

“Your grannie?” Atsumu echoes.

“Mmhmm. I’ve lived with her since I was bout eight years old.” Kita must sense the question that Atsumu isn’t brave enough to ask, because he looks straight up, directly at Atsumu, before he speaks again. “My ma and pa were in a bad car wreck when I was a kid. Grannie took me in after…. after it happened, and I’ve been with her ever since.”

“Oh,” Atsumu says again, much softer, and weaker this time. He fidgets on his bed, and looks away, unable to meet that intense yellow gaze. “I’m sorry about your loss, Kita-san.”

“Thank you, Atsumu.” Kita tosses his bag onto his bed and pads over to stand before Atsumu. He dips his head in a silent question at the empty spot next to him. Obligingly, Atsumu scoots over to make room and allows Kita to perch on his bed with him. “Didn’t mean to make ya feel awkward ‘bout it,” Kita says quietly. “Just don’t have a pretty way of saying that even after all these years, and I didn’t want to have ta spring it on ya later.”

Atsumu peeks at the older boy out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t know why you’re apologizin’ to me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Kita leans back slightly. “No, but it sure is a mood crusher anytime I have to tell someone that.” He shrugs. “It happened years ago and I can’t say I don’t miss ‘em, but I made my peace with it a while ago. I have my memories of them, after all.”

Atsumu doesn’t have a response to that, so he settles for changing the topic entirely. “Yer grannie live far from campus then? Ya packed at least a few sets of clothes into your overnight bag.”

“Grannie lives ‘bout two hours from here.” If Kita has noticed the clumsy topic change, he doesn’t say anything about it. “The bus on campus will take me to the station, and I can catch a train to the town she lives in from there. Bus takes about 30 minutes to get to the train station, train ride is ‘bout an hour and half, so it’s not so bad.” He gestures toward the bag he abandoned on his own bed. “I usually go every weekend to visit her and make sure she’s doin’ alright. I’ll be back Sunday night at around 8 or so.”

“I get the room to myself for the whole weekend?”

He must sound a bit too eager there because Kita fixes him with the Look; Atsumu wilts under the gaze instantly. “Yes, and this room better still be in one piece by the time I get back.”

“I’m not gonna wreck the place, Kita-san!” Atsumu protests loudly. Kita’s Look doesn’t soften, so Atsumu presses on. “Honest! Practice tonight is gonna kill me anyway, and then the most exciting thing I’ll get to do on Saturday is convince Suna that we should go out for lunch instead of locking ourselves up all day to study for our English test.”

“Still leaves Sunday.” Kita points out loftily, but the Look has vanished by this point so Atsumu is fairly confident he’s just being teased. He hopes. He decides to gamble on it.

“Well, Sunday I AM going to throw a wild party, but it should be done and cleaned up by 7, so we’re still good.”

“Ah, well, that’s okay then.” Kita’s face has shifted to a neutral expression, but his eyes are bright. “Jus’ make sure ya let Sakusa and Wakatoshi know beforehand.” Atsumu glances in the direction of their shared bathroom, where he knows that their suitemates are getting ready for bed if the locked door with steam curling out from under it is any indication. He’s not had many opportunities to hang out with them, and they’re both so serious. Briefly, he amuses himself with how they’d take his announcement of a party in the room right next to yours, and gets a good laugh at how murderous Omi would look. He’s much more fun to rile up than Ushijima, who Atsumu is pretty sure is part robot. It would explain why he and Kita were friends, after all.

The older male stands, stretching up as he does so. Atsumu pointedly keeps his gaze on Kita’s face and doesn’t once peek at the silver of skin that gets exposed as his shirt shifts with the stretch. “Best get back to my own packin’ if I’m gonna get to grannies in time for dinner.”

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence as Kita putters around their dorm, collecting everything he’ll need for a weekend trip and tucking it all neatly away into his bag. Atsumu lets himself fall back onto his bed, staring absently up at the ceiling. He’s half asleep, already resigned to putting off his history notes as a Future Atsumu problem when something is placed on his stomach.

He bolts upright to come face to face with his roommate, who is less than a foot away from him and staring. “Can I help ya?”

The object that had been put on his is now offered to him; it’s Kita’s phone. “Jus’ realized that I don’t have yer number in case I need to contact ya if I’m runnin’ late or anything funny happens. Put it in there for me, woulda?”

“Sure,” Atsumu agrees weakly, and then almost instantly drops Kita’s phone in his flustered state. Thankfully, his roommate has turned back around to continue packing and he catches the phone before it clatters to the floor. It takes him a few minutes longer than normal to type out his number in the phone—has pushes the wrong button with trembling fingers a few times and has to keep deleting the wrong characters---but eventually he manages and is left holding Kita’s phone uncertainly. “Can I send myself a text so I have yer number, Kita-san?”

“Yeah, good idea.” Kita seems much more preoccupied with fitting all his textbooks neatly into his bag than the untold havoc Atsumu could wreck with his unlocked phone held captive; the more pressing matter is that Atsumu hasn’t even ONCE considered doing something inappropriate with the phone, which is a sure sign of just how bad he’s got it for his roommate.

He’s put on the spot so he uses Kita’s phone to send himself an uninspired message of ‘Hello’ just for the sake of being able to id the number, and then offers the phone back to it’s owner. Kita accepts it without fuss and tucks it away into his pants pocket. “Thanks.”

Kita has his bag slung over his shoulder and he checks his wristwatch before nodding to himself. “Alright, I’m off. I’m trustin’ you to behave while I’m gone. Text me if anything crazy happens, ya hear?”

“Loud and clear Kita-san.” Atsumu hops off his bed to walk to the door with the other. “Will you text me when you’re on your way home, so I can clean up from that party?”

Kita's lips twitch and he blinks slowly at Atsumu. “Can do.”

*

Atsumu, with his goldfish memory, forgets about that promise by the end of the first day. The weekend passes quickly, if not uneventfully; practice does wipe him out Friday night and he spends over an hour on Saturday arguing with Suna about the merits of taking a study break to go get takeout Chinese food from the restaurant a few blocks down from campus (Suna does agree to go but makes them walk to go get it because ‘ _ getting a parking spot on campus is a bitch, Atsumu, and we’re both athletes so suck it up and get moving _ ’).

He’s at his desk Sunday evening pretending to study history again, having eaten a very sad dinner of microwave mac and cheese, when his phone vibrates. Thankful for any reason not to have to read about some general in some war long since forgotten, he dives for the distraction. The very first thing he notes is that he’s got a text; the second thing he realizes is that it’s from Kita.

(19:42)  _ Just got on the bus heading back to campus. Last chance to clean up from the party. _

Atsumu blinks once, twice, three times as he struggles to understand. Party? He wouldn’t exactly call test prep a party, but hey, Kita’s a weird guy, maybe—

“Oh!” He exclaims out loud, as he remembers their conversation just before Kita left for the weekend. Then he flushes a bright pink for reasons even he himself doesn’t fully understand. He could take the time and try to sort out his feelings and be a rational adult about them, or he could just fall back into the easy patterns he’s adopted with his roommate.

He chooses the latter.

(19:43)  _ Thanks for the warning! I’ll see ya soon, Kita-san! _

He waits a few moments to see if Kita will respond, but his phone remains silent. He’s disappointed, but not surprised; Kita is the very definition of ‘brevity is the soul of wit.’ Or, at least, Atsumu thinks he is? Study sessions with Suna are always an adventure of the blind leading the blind, another idiom that had been on their study guide, one that Atsumu actually does remember the definition of.

“Please god, let going pro work out for me,” he mumbles to himself. He’s got plenty of common sense, even if his behavior suggests otherwise, but academics have never been his strong suit.

Kita had said something about the bus ride back to campus only taking half an hour or so. Again, Atsumu could do the mature thing and finish his study guide finally, or hell, go back and sort out those feelings he’s Totally Not Ignoring, Thank You.

He could also go take a quick shower and then sit on his bed playing on his phone until Kita gets back, because yeah, maybe he’s missed his roommate. Nothing  _ wrong  _ with that, he reasons. Kita’s easy to talk to if not hard to read, and Atsumu is closer to him than most others on campus. And it’s not like it’s  _ illegal  _ to be fond of your roommate, right?

Right.

Nodding to himself, he closes his history textbook feeling only slightly guilty and heads off to the bathroom. 

*****

Atsumu, in sharp contrast to his roommate, only goes home once a month if he’s lucky, and it’s contingent entirely upon if Osamu is going back as well because Suna has to be bribed with his own boyfriend before he’s willing to drive them the full hour back home. Atsumu gets to ride shotgun for the 30 minute ride to Osamu’s school, and then he gets booted to the back seat for the rest of the drive home to gag while Suna and his brother giggle like idiots while catching up, as if they don’t Facetime every single night.

The first time he gets the opportunity to do so, it’s been two weeks since Kita started visiting his grannie on a weekly basis. It’s Kita who comes back to the room to find Atsumu rooting under his bed for the spare backpack he shoved under it at the start of the semester. “Lose somethin’? If yer looking for yer headphones, I think they’re under yer laptop.”

“What?” Atsumu scoots back out from his bed, old backpack clutched tightly in his hands. “No I’m---well, actually I was, but that’s not what I was lookin’ for right now.” He springs back up, thankful for volleyball muscles yet again. Sure enough, his headphones are stuck under his laptop when he shoves it to the side. “Thanks Kita-san, I thought I’d lost those!” They get shoved unceremoniously into the backpack, along with the charger that Atsumu yanks from the wall.

“You should take better care of yer things, Atsumu.” Kita chastises, and it would be much more effective if Atsumu didn’t hear this particular lecture weekly. He turns to flash a cheeky grin at the older boy.

“Probably, but I can always count on you to look out for me!” His roommate shakes his head, not even bothering to point out how shortsighted that thought really is.

“I’m guessin’ you’re goin’ somewhere, then?” Kita nods at the backpack Atsumu’s still holding, and he starts.

“Shit!” Atsumu flinches, and offers a sheepish smile to Kita who, as expected, is looking at him reproachfully. “Shoot?” He amends with far less force. “But yeah, I am, I’m goin’ home to visit my folks this weekend.”

Someone by the door clears their throat. “And we’d be on our way by now if you’d actually packed already like you promised me all week that you would.”

Atsumu waves a hand carelessly behind him, too busy shoving clothes haphazardly into his bag. “It’s rude to leave without sayin’ goodbye Sunarin, didn’t nobody ever teach you basic manners.”

“You of all people don’t get to say that to me.” Suna steps into the room, pulling the door closed again behind him. “Sorry about the intrusion Kita, but I’d like to leave sometime this year and Atsumu can’t be trusted to pack on his own apparently.”

“Oh my god you big baby. It’s gonna take my like five minutes to pack, let me live. ‘Samu isn’t gonna poof into dust if we’re a little late picking him up.” Atsumu spares a cursory glance over at his desk before deciding that no homework will get done this weekend even if he really wanted to, so why bother to clutter his bag with textbooks. “If yer really in a hurry, go get yer car and pull it up front. I’ll meet you down there.”

Suna leaves with a snort, mumbling something about how that had better be true, but Atsumu has more pressing matters to attend to than his brother’s anxious boyfriend. Matters like his roommate, who is currently looking at him with something as close to reproachful as Kita gets. “Ya didn’t mention any of this earlier.”

Atsumu shrugs, ignoring the guilty feeling that’s settling like a pit in his stomach. “Well, we only go if my brother is also heading home since Sunarin is also his ride, and he wasn’t sure until like Tuesday if he was gonna be able to take time off. I’ve only known for sure for like 2 days, and we debated leaving on Friday but neither Sunarin nor I have classes after this afternoon, so today it was.” 

“Two days seems like plenty of time to let yer roommate know you’ll be gone,” Kita says in that unnerving way he has of making simple statements so blunt they make you feel like you’ve been clubbed by them.

Dashing to the bathroom, Atsumu scoops up his toothbrush, toothpaste, and comb and forges pulling any of his toiletries from the shower figuring he can just mooch off his brother. “I mean, I guess. Didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

“It’s not, it’s just common courtesy.”

Something about that makes Atsumu’s skin crawl. He’s never been good at failure and it irks him to think that he’s fallen short of anyone’s expectations. Unfortunately, he’s also never been great at expressing himself with words, especially when he’s in the heat of the moment and upset.

“Well, you didn’t tell me before ya shipped off to yer grannies. Didn’t realize you were my gatekeeper.” He snaps. Kita’s eyes widen fractionally and Atsumu honestly can’t tell which of them are more shocked by his outburst in the moment. For the first time, the silence between them isn’t companionable or comfortable. Instead, it’s decidedly uncomfortable as Kita blinks owlishly at him and Atsumu fidgets, still not wanting to admit to any fault.

“Kita-san….” He starts but the other stops him with a firm shake of the head.

“Fair enough.” He says simply, and then heads over to his own desk to settle down to study. Atsumu is left standing like an idiot in the middle of their dorm as the other unpacks his notebooks methodically. He wants to say something, anything, to do away with the sudden chasm between them but his phone rings before he gets the chance to do so. “I’ll bet that’s Suna,” Kita says calmly, without turning to look. “Ya shouldn’t keep him waiting, ‘specially if he’s the one driving.”

“Um, yeah.” Atsumu says lamely, rejecting the call. Suna will bitch at him when he gets in the car, but whatever. He hesitates a few seconds longer, but Kita still refuses to turn. “I’ll see ya Sunday then, Kita-san.”

Kita hums noncommittally, and it’s as clear a dismissal as Atsumu’s ever seen.

Without another word, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and heads out to meet Suna.

*****

Atsumu wrestles the aux cord away from Suna the second they’re on the highway and, since Suna has to focus on driving and not getting them killed, Atsumu wins the war on getting to pick the music for drive. “Alright you ass, just because you’re having a tiff with Kita doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me.”

“Don’t know what ya mean,” Atsumu grumbles, slumping down in the passenger seat.

“Oh?” Suna side eyes him briefly. “Then explain why your ‘ Tears & Fears, I'm In Low Gear’ playlist is currently blasting Lana Del Ray’s  _ Young and Beautiful  _ out of my speakers.”

“Can’t a man just vibe to Lana Del Ray without it being emo?” He's well aware that his pouting isn’t helping his case at all, but he’s always been shit at lying to Suna, and Osamu will sniff him out in seconds once he gets in the car, so screw it.

“I mean, she’s a queen and I respect her, but this song? Doesn’t exactly scream happy, Atsumu.” Suna gives him a moment to respond to that but, when it becomes clear that’s not going to happen, he presses again. “How’d you fuck up this time?”

It’s only the fact that Atsumu doesn’t want to die in a fiery wreck that stops him from socking Suna. “Why are ya assumin’ that I’m the one at fault?!”

“Are you not?” Suna sounds smug, rightfully so since he’s gotten Atsumu to admit that he did have a tiff with Kita, all because Atsumu will rise to bait without fail every single time.

With a groan, he sinks further down into his seat. “Kita-san seemed a lil’ upset that I didn’t tell him I was goin’ home this weekend.”

“And?”

_ Young and Beautiful  _ ends and Coldplay’s  _ Fix You  _ starts up. “And I told him that was ridiculous since he never told me he was gonna go visit his grannie and I didn’t kick up a big fuss over it.”

“Did you say it just like that?” Suna’s sharp green gaze pins him for a moment, and Atsumu shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“I mean, maybe I was kinda short with him, but he admitted that I was right!”

Suna sighs, the suffering, tired kind of sigh that comes with being close to the Miya’s. “And that’s what matters most to you, right?”

_ That  _ jab makes Atsumu deflate on the spot. “Don’t have ta be so ugly ‘bout it, Sunarin.” He says quietly, staring out the window.

He’s never been good at arguing with Suna, mainly because Suna has an uncanny knack of cutting right to the matter of Atsumu’s bullshit with quick, sharp words in his no nonsense manner. In a sense, he’s a lot like Kita that way. What makes him more insserferable than Kita, however, is that Suna has a tendency to be  _ right  _ on his callouts, and has been friends with Atsumu for far too long not to take advantage of that. Atsumu’s no stranger to self-improvement, but he’s much better at applying it to volleyball; having a more powerful serve or a steadier receive is a piece of cake, but shelving his pride makes him balk.

“Atsumu,” Suna’s tone is a lot gentler than it had been before. “You know I love you, but you also know you can be a bit pigheaded sometimes, yeah?”

He takes a deep breath and exhales before he answers, willing himself to accept the critique as one born from affection and not anger. “Yeah, I know.”

“And I’ll agree that you were right to some extent, because you really don’t owe Kita an explanation of what you’re doing and where you’re going as long as it doesn’t affect him, and that yes, he probably should’ve given you some warning as well before he went home to be fair.” Suna pauses as he merges onto an exit ramp, one that Atsumu vaguely realizes leads to Osamu’s school. “But you also maybe should’ve just told him that calmly? Maybe not jumped down his throat in that defensive way you have?”

“I guess yer right,” he says, risking a glance over at Suna. The younger boy has a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“I usually am.”

“Modest too, anyone ever told ya?”

“You on occasion.” Suna laughs sharp and bright, his smirk becoming the full-fledged fox grin the twins tease him about mercilessly. “Done being pissy?”

“I was NOT bein’ pissy.”

“Sure,” Suna allows, having learned a long time ago to pick his fights with the Miya twins carefully. “Putting that aside, if you’re really bothered by the whole thing just text Kita and explain the whole thing and, I know it’ll kill you inside to do it, just apologize.” By this point, they’ve arrived on Osamu’s campus and Suna is maneuvering carefully through throngs of students to get to the parking lot of Osamu’s dorm. He pulls up next to the curb at the front of the building, twisting to look at Atsumu who sticks his tongue out at him as he flings open the passenger door to shift to the backseat of the car.

“Shut up and just text ‘Samu to get his ass down here so we can go home.”

*

“Good grief, what’ve ya done now?” Osamu says, twisting back to look at his twin. He’d thrown his bag in the backseat (knocking the wind out of Atsumu in the process) thrown himself into the newly vacated passenger seat, kissed Suna hello (pointedly ignoring Atsumu’s gag of disgust) and glanced back at his brother in the rearview mirror for a second before his eyes had widened.

“Your twin link thing is never not gonna freak me out,” Suna says, inching out of the parking lot of Osamu’s dorm.

“I mean, wasn’t hard to figure out since ‘Tsumu’s depression playlist is still goin’.” Atsumu’s phone gets removed from the aux cord and tossed back at him as Osamu takes over DJ duties. “Someone catch me up, what’d I miss on the ride down here?”

Suna obliges after glancing briefly at Atsumu for permission, which he gives with a casual shrug. When he’s done, Osamu makes a noise of disgust. “God, yer such a disaster human being. I’m embarrassed to be related to ya.”

“Feelin’s mutal,” Atsumu drawls, pulling his lips back into a predatory smile that’s all teeth and promise of a beating once they aren’t contained in a car.

“Tell me that ya’ve texted him sorry already and stopped being dramatic over this whole dumb situation.”

“I’ll tell ya that taste in music is still shit,” Atsumu jerks his head at the radio, which is now playing  _ Sucker.  _ “Really ‘Samu, the Jonas Brothers? How did I end up with all the taste  _ and _ the looks?”

Osamu snarls. “God had to give you something out of pity after I got all the personality, jackass.”

“You know,” Suna interjects conversationally. “I had JUST convinced myself that I kinda missed hanging out with you both like we did every day in high school, but this whole exchange is making me realize that I can really only take one of you at a time. And yes,” he says, as Atsumu opens his mouth. “I would pick Osamu over you. In a  _ heartbeat. _ ”

“You’re so MEAN Sunarin!” Atsumu yelps as his brother cackles upfront. He gets so caught up in defending his honor and enjoying being around his brother again (though he’ll DIE before he admits to that) that he’s able to put Kita and his wide-eyed hurt out of his mind for the time being.

*

That night, Atsumu is lying on the top bunk in the bedroom he’s shared with his brother for 18 years. Said brother is snoring away on the bottom bunk, not the least bit considerate of anyone else’s sleep.

Their parents had been thrilled to see them again, and even Suna hadn’t escaped being swept up into reunion hugs. He’d even gotten roped into joining them for dinner, with the exchange that Osamu and Atsumu would join him and his mom for dinner the next day.

It had been nice, sitting in his mother’s kitchen, watching her cook as their dad pumped the three of them with questions about how the semester had been going so far. Way nicer than Atsumu wanted to admit, though there is also an air of strangeness about it.

He’s been living in the dorm for three months or so now and has gotten used to moving at his own schedule, doing as he pleased with only Kita around to judge him.

The thought of Kita had brought his good spirit crashing down again, leaving him to excuse himself early after Suna had left to go home. He’d begged off with the justification he had homework to do before the weekend was over (which he did. His parents just didn’t need to know that it was still sitting in his dorm, over an hour away). Osamu had stared at him knowingly but thankfully stayed silent, even if he did throw a pen at him when he barged into their room late that evening.

_ Just apologize!  _ Atsumu scolds himself, shoving his face into his pillow.  _ It’s not hard to do!  _ Suna had told him what to do like it was the easiest thing in the world, but Suna and Atsumu are fundamentally different people. Still, it’s not like he’s going to be able to sleep with his mind still racing, so he has to do something if he wants any hope of peace.

He pulls his phone out from under his pillow and types up a quick message before he can chicken out.

(20:18)  _ Are ya still awake, Kita-san? _

Immediately, he shoves it back under his pillow and prays that Kita won’t actually answer until the morning, so he won’t have to deal with the situation right now.

Because God hates him personally, he gets no such luck.

(20:19)  _ I am. _

That’s not a whole lot to go off of, but it’s not like Atsumu expected any different. He gnaws on his bottom lip as he tries to figure out what he wants to say next.

(20:19)  _ That’s good because I wanted to talk to ya _

(20:20)  _ I just wanted to apologize for how I acted before I left today _

(20:22)  _ You really surprised me because I didn’t think it was a big deal that I was going home, bc you didn’t tell me in advance that you were goin’ to your grannies. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret from you or anything _

(20:22)  _ And I shouldn’t have snapped at you over somethin’ so dumb. If it matters that much, I’ll try to give you more warning next tiem _

(20:23)  _ *time _

(20:23)  _ So yeah. I’m sorry for being so snappish. _

There. He’s done it. He can play nice, suck it Suna. He flips his phone face down on his pillow and stares at it until it vibrates with a notification. He then has to spend a full minute hyping himself up before he can bare to look at Kita’s response.

(20:24)  _ Oh. _

‘Oh?’ Atsumu admits to his poor behavior and all he gets for baring his soul like that is an ‘oh’????? He’s going to kill Suna. He’s going to kill Osamu. Both of them are WRONG, apologizing is the hardest thing in the damn world to do and he’s NEVER going to do it again—

(20:27)  _ You caught me off guard. _

Atsumu pauses mid-meltdown.

(20:27)  _ First, I appreciate and accept your apology. I wasn’t sure why you were so angry ‘bout my question earlier, but I’m glad it was just a misunderstanding. _

(20:28)  _ I wasn’t tryin’ to imply that you owed me an explanation about where you were going, but I was just confused that you hadn’t told me since ya usually talk so much. _

Embarrassment makes Atsumu’s cheeks burn but he’s spared from wallowing by Kita’s next text.

(20:29)  _ So I’m sorry too. _

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

(20:29)  _ No worries!! _

(20:30)  _ New roommate agreement: we just let each other know when we’re leaving for any long period of time _

(20:30)  _ Sound good? _

Kita’s response comes quickly.

(20:31)  _ Works for me. _

Just like that, Atsumu feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. He breaths again, deeply, pleased that it doesn’t make his stomach cramp like it did on the ride down in Suna’s car. His exhaustion hits him all at once, and it’s suddenly hard to keep his eyes open anymore.

(20: 31) 👍👍👍

(20: 31)  _ G’night Kita-san _

(20:32)  _ Goodnight Atsumu. I hope you have a good time with your family. _

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up the next morning to the smell of waffles and eggs, and he and Osamu take turns tackling each other on the way to the kitchen. Their mother scolds them as they topple into the room, and for a moment it’s like the last three months never happened.

(When the weekend is done, Atsumu spends the whole ride worrying over whether or not he should text Kita that he’s on his way back. The decision is made for him when Osamu snatches his phone away and shoots his roommate a text before he can pry his phone back. It’s Kita’s reply of  _ see ya soon then  _ that allows his brother to keep breathing. When he finally, FINALLY gets back to his own room, Kita glances up at him and gives a small wave, which leaves Atsumu wondering why he ever kicked up such a fuss in the first place).

*

After the initial debacle, they settle into a sort of routine; Kita maintains his weekly visitation schedule to his grannie, who usually sends him home with leftovers that he’s more than happy to share with Atsumu, and Atsumu visits his parents with Osamu and Suna every other month. Both make it a point to inform the other if plans change for any reason. Neither of them brings up Atsumu’s outburst.

One Sunday night, he’s just gotten back to campus and throws open the door to his room to find Kita sitting on his bed, phone pressed up to his ear. This in and of itself isn’t that strange, as Kita tends to stick to schedule and doesn’t have to suffer delays from an obnoxious twin brother who takes a day and age to say goodbye to his boyfriend who also happens to be your designated driver. 

“Oh, hullo Atsumu.” Kita says, pulling his phone away from his ear. “Hmm?” He says, back into his phone. “Nah grannie, Atsumu just got back from visiting his parents.” Atsumu sets his stuff down as quietly as he can so as not to disturb the others' conversation. “Okay grannie.” Movement out of the corner of his eye draws his attention. He turns to see Kita gesturing at him. “Grannie says hullo as well.”

“Hullo!” Atsumu blurts out, surprised at being addressed so abruptly. “Tell her thank you for the soup last week, it was amazing.”

Kita relays her message and then huffs a quiet laugh. “She says yer welcome and she’d be happy to make more for me to take back next week.” Atsumu fist pumps in victory and Kita laughs a tiny bit again. “Alright grannie, I gotta go now, but I can call ya tomorrow if ya’d like?” Atsumu can’t hear what she says back, but Kita responds with “Okay then. Love ya too. Bye grannie,” before hanging up and putting his phone down on his nightstand.

“Everything alright?” Atsumu probes cautiously. Kita nods.

“Oh, everythin’s fine. I just left a notebook there on accident and she wanted to make sure it wasn’t somethin’ I needed for class tomorrow.” And then, because Atsumu’s next question is super obvious, “It’s not, it’s an old notebook I use for tutoring sessions, but I don’t need it this week. I just like to have it as an example for my tutees in a failsafe kinda way.”

“So reliable of you, Kita-san,” Atsumu tells him. Kita rolls his eyes and shifts so he’s fully sitting faced towards Atsumu.

“Welcome home,” Kita says, blinking at Atsumu. His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners, the same way they do when Kita talks to his grannie on the phone or gets a test back with a perfect score. He’s pleased, Atsumu realizes abruptly, genuinely pleased to see him.

That realization is immediately followed by a second one, where it occurs to Atsumu that he didn’t even think twice about Kita calling the tiny dorm room they share ‘home.’

He doesn’t know when he started to think of their dorm room as ‘home.’

For the longest time, home had meant the house he’d grown up in with his parents and Osamu, had meant a room shared with his brother who snored away on the bottom bunk. It had meant waking up to smell his mother’s cooking and squabbling with his brother over who got the last piece of toast before they both were shooed out to get to school before the bell had rung.

Home was in a sleep country town that Atsumu had never even set foot outside of prior outside of volleyball games that required his high school team to travel to. Home was where his parents were, where his brother was, where there was a sense of familiarity and comfort so deeply ingrained in the air it was almost palpable.

So when had ‘home’ also become the small dorm room with the faulty air condition unit that always smelled funny on rainy days? When had Kita and quiet tutoring sessions and subpar cafeteria food and movies watched on his tiny laptop screen become the same thing as where he’d grown up?

He gives himself a firm shake, tossing that thought into the same bin as the Feelings He’s Totally Not Ignoring and shoves it to the back of his mind.

“Thanks!” Atsumu says with a wide grin. With two bounds, he’s crossed the room and leaped up onto his own bed. “It’s good to be back.”

And, shockingly, it really is.


	3. warm touches

It’s four months into the semester and a month or so before midterms, and Atsumu is _this_ close to going to the registrar’s office and dropping out. When he says as much to Kita—and Suna, by proxy, as the other happens to be visiting during Atsumu’s meltdown—they roll their eyes at him in unison.

“No ya won’t,” Kita says so matter-of-factly that even Atsumu himself buys it. “Yer a lot of things, Miya Atsumu, but ya ain’t a quitter.”

“He’s right,” Suna adds, leaning back in Atsum’s desk chair. “You’re a dramatic motherfucker, yeah, but also proud and ‘Samu will NEVER let you live it down if you drop out after snarking at him to do so.”

“Damn you both and yer logic.” Atsumu groans. “And damn ‘Samu and his ability to last longer in culinary school than I thought.”

“Oh?” Suna glances up from his copy of _The Great Gatsby_. “We’re going to rehash this argument again? ‘Cause I can and will deck you if you shit talk my boyfriend and his goals in life.”

Atsumu has gotten into enough fistfights with Osamu to be fairly confident in his brawling abilities, but Suna also has a good three inches on him and freaky flexibility to boot. Moreover, they’re supposed to be studying right now for the midterms looming over them (and maybe Atsumu is actually grudgingly impressed with his brother’s tenacity, but no one needs to know that).

“Chill out Sunarin,” he drawls, sitting up properly on his bed. “You don’t have to jump to defend my brother’s honor from me. Just jealous that the bastard’s midterms all involve edible projects and not papers.”

“Cookin’ is hard work,” Kita points out, flipping a page over on his Botany notes. “I’d reckon it’s just a different kind of difficult from our exams.”

“I refuse ta believe it’s harder than statistics.” Atsumu glares at his Probability and Statistics notebook like it’s done him personally wrong. Hell, it has, just by existing as far as he’s concerned.

This does make Kita look up, even as Suna mumbles ‘drama king’ under his breath. “C’mere,” his roommate says, beckoning him over to his desk. Obediently, Atsumu does as he’s bid, bringing his notebook and textbook with him. “Y’all still on conditional probably and factorials like we went over last time?”

“Yep,” Atsumu says, letting the ‘p’ pop.

“Alright, quick review then.” Kita nudges the notebook towards himself and scrawls something in it. When he shifts it back towards Atsumu, he can see that his roommate has written ‘6!3’ on the page. “What’s that?”

“A factorial?”

Suna coughs loudly as Kita fixes him with a hard stare. “Uhh, 6 factorial three?”

“Yes. And what do you do with a factorial?”

“You….multiply them?” Kita nods in approval.

“Now, what are ya gonna multiply by in this situation and how many times?” Atsumu’s face scrunches as he thinks about that.

“You multiply the first number by itself?”

“Ya askin’ me that or are ya tellin’ me?”

Atsumu straightens up. “Tellin’ ya.”

“Good, cause you were right.” Kita taps his pencil against the notebook. “And how many times are ya gonna multiply the first number against itself?”

As always when Kita helps him out with homework, Atsumu is struck by how much _better_ his roommate is at teaching the core material than his actual professor is. He’d asked once, early on when Kita had started unofficially tutoring him, why his professor didn’t just teach things the way Kita did since his way was so much clearer and simpler. His roommate had given him a rare small smile. ‘Math professors,’ he had said, ‘have a nasty tendency to get so caught up in teachin’ what they love that they overdo it on the explanations and leave students' heads spinn’.

“You multiply the first number by itself as many times as the second number is.” Atsumu says with all the confidence he doesn’t really feel. He’s vindicated by Kita’s hum of approval.

“Right, so it’d be 6x6x6 in this case. And what’s another way to write that?”

“Six to the threed.” A long, pregnant pause follows that proclamation. “The THIRD. It’s like six to the THIRD oh my GOD shut UP Sunarin!” Atsumu says shrilly, whipping around to glare at his friend.

Suna’s in danger of falling off the chair he’s sitting on, he’s laughing so hard. His copy of _The Great Gatsby_ has gone toppling and has been claimed by the pit under Atsumu’s desk. “Oh my god,” he sobs out between laughs. “Oh my god, you’re so dumb!”

“I was think’ too fast is all!” Atsumu protests hotly, fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands. Resolutely, he does not look at Kita, whose gaze is burning into him.

“Yeah, sure!” Suna has honest to god tears in his eyes. “Thinking too fast my ass---more like you weren’t thinking at all!”

“Suna Rintarou!” Atsumu howls. “I am stressed out and I am _tired!_ I don’t need you to come for me like this!” 

There’s a loud bang from their bathroom and curly head of black hair pokes into their room. “What the hell is going on?”

“Omi-kun!” Atsumu turns to his suitemate. “I’m getting’ bullied is what’s goin’ on!”

“Good.” There’s a substantial amount of venom in Sakua’s voice that Atsumu thinks is entirely unwarranted. “You almost certainly deserve it.” He ignores the squawks of protest from Atsumu to look at Kita. “Wakatoshi-kun and I are studying right now, as I assume you’re trying to. Please try to keep them as quiet as possible.”

“Of course.” Kita bows his head in apology. “Tell Wakatoshi I’m sorry ‘bout the noise.” Sakusa nods and retreats into his own room. “Both of y’all done making a scene?”

Suna has managed to calm down somewhat, though his shoulders do still shake with giggles every few seconds. “For now at least.” He wipes at his eyes and sucks in a breath. “Oh man Atsumu, that was a good laugh. I really need that, thanks.”

“Glad to be of service.” He says bitterly. “Are midterms over yet?”

“Not even close,” Kita tells him, prodding him on the arm. “And ya still never told me what six to the threed is.”

Sakusa’s head whips furiously into their room scant seconds later as Suna erupts into a second laugh attack and Atsumu howls about how unfair his friend and roommate are.

*

“So?” Osamu says into his ear later that night. “Still feelin’ confidant that yer gonna rub my face in yer stellar math grade, or are you ready to concede defeat? I’ll be a gracious winner and only take the piss outta ya for a week.”

Atsumu pulls a face even though his brother isn’t there to see it. “Why does Sunarin date ya with yer terrible personality?”

“I’m charming,” his brother tells him. “And yer dodgin’ the question.”

Atsumu has to pin his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he’s forced to dig in his pocket for his student ID. He manages to pull it from his pocket with only minimal struggle and swipes it quickly through the card reader 

“My grades have been goin’ up!” He tugs the door open to the building and slips inside. Blessed air conditioning hits him fully and he takes a moment to just bask in the sudden coolness that’s such a radical contrast from the weather outside. “And that’s not even a lie, I have receipts to prove it.”

“That’s what Suna said, but I was worried he was losin’ his mind.”

“The two of you dating and colluding was one of the worst things to ever happen ta me.” Atsumu, having cooled off considerably, starts off towards the stairs and begins the task of climbing up three flights of rickety old wooden stairs.

Osamu whistles lowly. “Colludin’, now that’s a fancy five dollar word if I ever did hear one. English class actually teaching you something, ‘Tsumu?”

“It was in a quote on our last quiz,” he says absentmindedly. “We had to identify the speaker and the context of it. Suna got it wrong. I did not.”

“Proud of ya,” There’s just a kernel of truth in his brother’s voice, one that makes him preen for just a moment.

“And I guess yer doin’ alright too. Ya always have been food motivated though, so it’s not _that_ shocking.”

“Careful ‘Tsumu,” Osamu drawls. “It almost sounded like you were complimenting me.”

“Disgusting.” Atsumu has reached the third floor by now and he adjusts his backpack so that it’s not digging painfully into his shoulders. “I’m gotta go now and study like a real student. My midterms require a little bit more of me than just seeing if I can make a rice ball stick together.”

“Ya can’t even do that though. ‘s why ma banned you from the kitchen, remember?”

Atsumu hangs up on him. He shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and shoulders his way through the door he’s been waiting in front of while attempting to play nice with Osamu.

He’s greeted by Kita, who happens to be sitting at an old worn oak table in the middle of the room. “Yer late.”

He slings his bag onto the back of the chair across from Kita and drops himself into it. “I was talkin’ to ‘Samu and didn’t want to walk in on the phone. Seemed rude.” Reaching behind him, he yanks out his math binder and textbook, sliding them across the table to Kita. “Last class we went over conditional statements and And vs Or statements.”

Kita nods and takes a moment to look over Atsumu’s notes. The room is quiet apart from the occasional page flip, so Atsumu takes the opportunity to lean back in his seat and observe the room around them.

They’ve taken up residence in a spare study room in the building that houses the offices for the math and history professors. Originally, when Kita had begun tutoring him, they’d tried to keep it to their dorm room for simplicity's sake. It had quickly become apparent that Atsumu was incapable of focusing if he was allowed to get too comfortable.

He’d been skeptical when Kita had dragged him out of their building and halfway across campus, and he’d only resisted more when he saw it was an office building he was being led to. Kita had ignored all his wails and protests and frog marched him up the stairs and over to a small door in the corner all but shoving him through it.

Atsumu had toppled forward into a dark room and flailed wildly for a moment before Kita stepped in behind him and flicked the light switch on the wall. The room was relatively small; the oak table took up most of the room, being in the dead center and surrounded by four mismatched chairs. The left and right wall were crammed all across with bookcases that were jam packed with books (mainly history textbooks when he’d squinted at them) and a computer was tucked away in the back left on a rickety old desk. 

‘Is this where you take me out, Kita-san?’ he had asked, and then immediately regretted the phrasing of that particular inquiry. 

‘Naw,’ his roommate had glossed over the awkward phrasing entirely. He shoved his way past Atsumu to go sit at the table. ‘I found this room halfway through my first semester here; it’s supposed ta be a study room for history majors, but I’ve never seen anybody in here at all. I’ve just kinda’ claimed it since then, to be honest.’

It’s not a bad room, Atsumu thinks to himself. It’s in a building that stays open late, with decent enough heating and air for one so old. And Kita had been right; it’s like the room just doesn’t register one people’s radars. As far as he’s aware, the two of them are the only ones who have set foot in it since the new term began. Initially, Atsumu had debated telling Suna about the room so that he could use it as well, but something had made him hesitate. It’s childish and immature, it’s actually kinda nice to have a secret spot only he and Kita know about. Atsumu isn’t willing to sacrifice it just yet.

“Yer doin’ much better on the practice problems in class.” Kita’s voice startles him out of his own thoughts. He’s looking over a worksheet Atsumu vaguely remembers doing in the last class. “And yer test and quiz scores have gotten better too. You actually are in a real good spot to possibly get an A- on yer midterm grades if ya do well on the test.”

Atsumu brightens, subconsciously sitting up straighter in his chair. “You’ve been a real great tutor, Kita-san!”

Kita shrugs. “I mean, I’ve been working with ya the same way I have with all my other tutees. But,” he says, glancing up at Atsumu. “I do think that you’ve been the one ta put in the most work, and it really shows.”

Maybe it’s because his grades really _have_ started to look better since he’s been working with Kita. Maybe it’s because, for the first time since elementary school, Atsumu has been able to kinda sorta understand what’s going on in a math class. Maybe it’s because he’s proven to some extent that he CAN hack it in college, take that all you non-believers, he’s more than just a pretty face and star athlete.

Maybe it’s a mix of all those things.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that he knows Kita doesn’t hand out false praise, doesn’t say anything he doesn’t genuinely believe 100%, and Kita thinks he’s doing well, that he can pass his midterm and make their agreement a reality.

Whatever it is, Atsumu can feel the desire to prove himself burning hot and bright in his chest. It overwhelms him for a moment, leaves him struggling to find the words to properly express himself. He clenches his hands together, squares his shoulders, and tosses his head up high.

“Hope you’re ready to come see me play, Kita-san. This mid-term is gonna be just one more stepping stone for me.” Atsumu grins and it’s all teeth, a promise and threat wrapped in one.

Kita doesn’t respond to that, doesn’t even acknowledge the statement, but there’s something in his eyes that makes Atsumu think the other boy is very much looking forward to him succeeding.

*

He’s wrong.

He’s super mega ultra wrong and it makes him sick to his stomach.

They’d stumbled through midterms, the whole group of them; Atsumu and Kita, Ushijima and Sakusa in the room right next to them, and even Suna and Komori had gotten involved in their mass study sessions that were starting to become a frequent event.

(It was during one of the cram sessions that they’d all discovered Komori and Sakusa were cousins, which had just felt like another sucker-punch the semester had thrown at them just to keep them humble. Atsumu had spent a full five minutes staring dumbly between the two just whispering ‘how’ quietly to himself over and over and over again, while Sakusa had looked murderous and Komori had been giggling in his good natured way.)

They have a mini-break right after midterms, which is such a blessing that Atsumu could cry over it. He’d almost forgotten what life was like when he didn’t have to stagger back to his room dead tired from practice only to have to pep talk himself into doing an hour’s worth of homework.

The world is his oyster all of a sudden. The break means he doesn’t have practice for the time being and all the professors have given them a reprieve from work and assignments as well. Atsumu is in the middle of kicking ASS at Candy Crush when his phone lights up with a message from Suna.

(16:03) _Midterm grades were just posted_

He fumbles his phone, forfeiting the level he’s on as he stretches off his bed to grab his laptop off of his desk.

(16:04) _Geez, were u refreshin’ the page every 5 secs?_

(16:04) _Yuck it up now dumbass, but my English grade is still gonna be way higher than urs_

(16:05) _mmhhm, did ya ever actually finish great gatsby or…?_

(16:06) _Really? You really wanna do this, Mr. threed?_

Atsumu chooses generally to ignore the jab in favor of logging into his school account to check his own grades. When the homepage loads, he clicks his way over to the ‘grades’ tab and begins to skim over the report.

(16:08) _89 in English, read it and weep Sunarin_

He stares intently at his phone with baited breath.

(16:08) _I see ur 89 and I raise you: 91_

(16:08) _bull!!!!! pics or it didn’t happen!!!!_

He tosses his phone aside in disgust while he waits for Suna to respond. He turns back to his laptop and looks over the rest of his midterm scores. He’s somehow managed to scrape an ‘A’ in Biology, which he supposes is just one of the little luxuries of having an Environmental Science major as a roommate. There’s a ‘B’ next to his History grade, which is a blessing considering how little work he actually puts into that class. His stupid orientation course also has a B, and they should be so lucky he still shows up to that class with all the bullshit that happens in it.

That leaves just his Statistics grade, which he _knows_ he did well in courtesy of Kita-san. Holy shit, that means that he’s got straight B’s and even an A across the board, fuck Sunarin and his higher English grade, he’s done _amazing_ and--

‘D+’

He freezes in his absentminded scrolling of the page, frantically goes back up to see if he needs to get his eyes checked or something because there’s just no way.

It’s still there. A tiny, bold, black ‘D+’ next to his probability and statistics midterm grade. On autopilot, he clicks on the class and his actual midterm test grade pops up at the top.

‘65’ the number reads.

It’s not possible. He worked SO hard to study. He’s done every practice work sheet his professors given him, actively asked questions in class, took time to review his notes with Kita on a weekly basis. It’s not possible. There’s no way he’s done _so_ poorly on something he was so prepared for, was sure he’d knocked out of the park.

Vaguely, he’s aware of his phone blinking up at him with a missed notification. He feels like he’s lost an hour of time, but when he picks back up his phone to see what Suna’s sent him, he can see it’s only been a few minutes.

(16:09) _Sunarin sent an image:_

(16:09) _Boom. I’ll accept ur praise and admiration now_

(16:13) _Hello????? Earth 2 Atsumu??_

(16:15) _Oh my god, tell me ur not thinking of a way to try to claim that I cheated bc I will fight you on sight_

(16:18) _You have one more minute to respond before I march over to ur dorm room to check on u_

Numbly, he types up a response.

(16:18) _I’m here, you don’t have to beat down the door_

(16:18) _Finally_

(16:19) _Anyway, solid B+’s across the board for me, and even managed to scrape an A in Biology, probs thanks to Kita-san_

(16:20) _And u?_

Atsumu glances back up at his screen, like the inconspicuous ‘65’ next to his stats midterm grade will have disappeared. It has not.

(16:20) _A in bio as well, and mostly b’s on everything else_

Maybe Suna will let it drop. Maybe he won’t notice the ‘mostly’ part of the text, he did only get a high B in English and not an A. Maybe---

(16:21) _Mostly?_

(16:21) _What class did u fuck up in?_

(16:22) _Wait_

(16:22) _wait, tell me it wasn’t ur math class_

His stomach churns as he replies.

(16:23) _It wasn’t math_

Suna takes a few minutes to reply this time, a sure sign that he’s seen through Atsumu’s bullshit. Restlessly, he refreshes the page, like maybe that will change the grade magically. It also is a bust. He tries once more, just to be safe, to the same lack of results. By now, Suna has managed to find something to say.

(16:27) _I’m really sorry Atsumu. I know you were studying really hard to get a good grade, so don’t beat yourself up over this. Maybe next semester I can drag Kita to a game with me?_

(16:28) _Did u want to talk about it? Maybe go jump your professor for shits and giggles?_

Even in the middle of his sadness and disbelief, Atsumu can feel a flicker of affection for how good of a friend Suna is deep down. 

(16:29) _‘ppreciate the offer Sunarin, but I’m going to curl up into a ball in my blanket and live like a slug for a lil bit_

He gets a thumbs up emoji in response before he locks his phone and puts it, along with his laptop (that he shuts with more force than necessary) on the floor next to his bed. Drawing his blankets up over his head, he makes good on what he said to Suna and if a few tears drip down his cheeks well, no one can say for sure if slugs cry or not.

*

“Suna told me what happened,” Kita announces, as he walks back into their room a couple of hours later, and Atsumu freezes.

He takes back every nice thing he thought about Suna earlier. A good friend his ASS. _I’m going to kill him,_ he thinks, followed immediately by an overwhelming sense of panic. “And what exactly happened, Kita-san?” Immediately, he regrets the question. Playing dumb works on a lot of peopoe, but not Kita who, sure enough is staring at him flatly. Granted, his scratchy voice and still red eyes probably also don’t do him any favors in being subtle.

“Midterms stress a lotta people out, Atsumu.” Kita shrugs. “Maybe it was just a bad test and a bad first time.”

“Kita-san,” Atsumu croaks out, tring his damndest to keep his voice level and toneless. “I hear what yer saying and I appreciate the sentiment, but I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

His roommate stares hard at him before nodding, quietly wandering over to his side of the room in what Atsumu assumes is an attempt to give him as much privacy as possible.

He doesn’t want pity. He doesn’t want sympathy. _Cheers or jeers_ he thinks to himself as he turns to face the wall. _One or the other or nothing at all._

*

He’s in the middle of a pity party (the third one in two days, as a matter of fact which almost certainly isn’t healthy but he’s _grieving_ so he figures he’s allowed this) when Kita walks into their dorm. Atsumu has all of seven seconds to process his roommate’s arrival before a bag is tossed at him. His reflexes kick in, thank god, and save him from getting smacked in the face by a backpack he recognizes as his own. “Ya stealin’ my stuff now, Kita-san? Didn’t peg you for that kind of person.”

“Pack yer things.” Kita tilts his head in consideration. “Bring enough stuff for at least three days, just to be safe.”

“Am I getting sexiled?” The thought is so absurd to him that his brain to mouth filter fails and the question escapes him before he can manner check himself.

“Sexiled?” Kita echoes.

“Do…..do ya not know what that means, Kita-san?” For one terrible, horrifying moment Atsumu is convinced that he’s going to have to explain the concept to his older roommate that gives him complex feelings he’d much prefer not to think about.

“Naw, I know the term.” Kita’s expression softens minutely. “Just wasn’t ready to hear it come outta yer mouth right now.”

“Ah,” Atsumu says oh so intelligently. 

“Ta answer yer question, no, yer not getting’ sexiled,” and oh, it sounds much, MUCH more suave and sexy when Kita says the word rather than the horny teenage slang than it really is. “We’re takin’ a break and goin’ on a trip.” 

“We are?” For some reason, this seems wrong in Atsumu’s brain. He’s able to place why after some thought. “Hang on a sec, isn’t it Friday?” Kita nods and Atsumu’s confusion rises. “Ain’tcha gonna go see yer grannie then, Kita-san?”

“I am.” Kita shifts slightly and Atsumu can see now his own spare bag slung over his shoulder. “And yer comin’ with me.”

“I am???”

“Ya don’t have to, if ya don’t want to.” Kita is still staring at him with that damnably blank face Atsumu hates he can’t read. “But you’ve been real down lately and grannie’s cooking has never failed to cheer me up.”

Abruptly, tears well up in Atsumu’s eyes. They prick at the back of his eyeballs, leaving them itchy and stinging and overly bright. He turns away from Kita, staring up at the obnoxious fluorescent light of their room and letting the burn from staring at it overpower the tears threatening to eek out of him. “I’d really like that, Kita-san.” He tells the ceiling.

*

Atsumu has never taken the bus system offered by his university.

He doesn’t really have a need to; going home or grocery shopping involves bumming a ride from Suna, and any other place he may have to go to is typically within a fifteen minute walk from campus. It’s a strange but not unpleasant experience to follow Kita to the bus stop at the edge of campus.

It’s just as hot as it’s been the whole semester and Atsumu can feel his t-shirt plastered to his back. “Hey, Kita-san?”

Kita glances up from his phone, where he’d been checking the bus schedule to make sure they were on time. “Mmmmhm?”

“Would ya judge me real bad if I took my shirt off?”

The Look is in place, but it’s not as severe as it usually is. “Not real bad, but I will judge ya a lil bit.” Because Atsumu cannot tell how much of that statement is a joke and how much is true, his shirt stays in place to his displeasure. 

“It’s sooooo hot,” he whines, plucking at his clothes in a sad attempt to get a little bit of air to his heated skin.

“The bus is coming in 5 minutes and they’re air conditioned. You can wait that long Atsumu.” Kita swipes a hand across his own forehead and, when that proves ineffective, grabs the hem of his t-shirt and tugs it up to wipe his face instead.

He’s going to tease Kita about his lack of manners using his own shirt as a sweat rag, especially after telling Atsumu to behave in public, but then he catches sight of a bit of ink on the older boy’s ribcage and his brain temporarily short circuits. He has to take a moment to collect himself before he can speak.

“You have a tattoo?!?” So much for being cool about the whole thing.

“Hmm?” Kita seems to be caught genuinely off-guard by the question. “I do, yeah. Is...is that a bad thing or what?” He asks like he doesn’t realize how absolutely absurd it is for Mr. Perfect, Strictly Regimented Kita to have something so….so wild as a tattoo. Then again, Atsumu thinks as he stares at his roommate, he does have an ear piercing as well so it’s not too much of a jump.

The earring is one thing though! Especially because it’s so small and Kita doesn’t wear it all the time, which makes it easy to forget about. The tattoo is another matter entirely. He says as much to his roommate, who only stares.

“How long have ya had that?!” It’s half a question, half a demand, and Atsumu thinks he’s pushing his luck being so bossy with his senior but Kita doesn’t seem to mind.

“The earring or the tattoo?”

“....both??”

“I got the tattoo close to the end of my second semester as a freshman.” Kita’s expression becomes thoughtful. “I’ve had it about seven months now or so? Sounds about right.”

Atsumu is still reeling from the fact Kita’s hidden a fairly big tattoo right on his chest for the whole semester now. He’s starting to wonder if he even actually lives on campus, or if he’s just always been blind. “And the earring?”

“Ah.” It’s as monotone as ever, but Atsumu thinks he can just pick out a hint of embarrassment in Kita’s voice, which is just one more thing to marvel at this moment. “Got that done as a junior in high school in a very sad goth phase I had that I’m tryin’ to forget about.”

“I’m soRRY?” This time, Atsumu is entirely unable to control his volume, which earns him a shushing from the other. “You had a WHAT now?”

“Ya heard me the first time.” The tips of Kita’s ears are pink and, while it could easily be chalked up to the heat, Atsumu very much doubts that’s the case. “Anyway, the phase passed but I kinda liked the piercing, so I still wear it pretty often.

What the hell is even happening this week? Atsumu’s failed a midterm he was actually confident about, he’s been whisked off on an impromptu trip to visit his roommate's grandmother with about 5 minutes of warning, and Kita’s shown not only that he has a TATTOO but also is susceptible to human emotions to boot. Atsumu is starting to suspect that any college campus is actually just a zone of Fuckery where anything and everything goes and you only notice how batshit insane it all is when you step off of it.

Uselessly, he opens and closes his mouth several times rapidly, trying to form words his brain can’t even begin to provide for him. His struggle gets cut short.

“Bus is comin’, better close yer mouth and get all yer stuff together,” Kita says, and his lips do the smile twitch they always do when he’s amused at Atsumu’s expense. Sure enough, the bus pulls to a halt in front of them a few seconds later, and Kita climbs on board, leaving Atsumu to scramble up after him with a squawk.

*

“Kita-san,” Atsumu says, letting his head loll back to stare up at the darkening sky. “Do ya think yer grannie would adopt me if I asked real nice?” They’re both on the back porch of Kita’s grandmother's house; Atsumu has settled himself at the bottom of the wooden steps of the porch, resting most of his weight on his hands as he leans back and peers upwards. Kita is just behind him, and Atsumu can hear the old wood creak a bit as he moves about.

“What makes ya say that?” Kita actually sounds amused, something Atsumu chalks up to his roommate being about 100 times more expressive when he’s in close proximity to his grannie.

As if he doesn’t know. As if he hadn’t watched as Kit’s grandmother had swooped down on them the SECOND both of them had shown up at her doorstep, greeting both of them with a tight, comforting hug. As if she hadn’t lead Atsumu by the hand into her house, chattering about ‘how nice it was ta finally meet Shinsuke’s roommate, he talks about you _all_ the time’ (‘All good things, I hope,’ Atsumu had said while fighting back a pleased flush). As if she hadn’t gone out of her way to make a dinner of all the leftovers that had been Atsumu’s favorites when she sent them home with Kita--which also means that Kita had been taking notes, which just doubles the warm fuzzies he’s feeling.

“Because obahan is the nicest woman I’ve ever met and I would gladly run any errand she ever needed from me as long as she keeps feeding me.”

“Don’t see how that would make ya any different than all the cats she leaves food out for.” The creaking footsteps get just a bit louder and then Kita is standing right next to Atsumu. He hops down the steps and lowers himself so that he’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with the other; it’s only then that Atsumu notices Kita’s holding something. 

The ‘something’ turns out to be two mugs of hot chocolate in each hand, one of which gets offered to Atsumu. It’s gotten a little cooler as the sun’s gone down, from boiling hot to a pleasantly warm evening, and Atsumu accepts the beverage eagerly. He takes a tentative sip, delighted to find that not only is it at a perfect temperature, it’s also rich. He swallows an eager mouthful and takes pleasure in how smoothly it goes down.

“Grannie thought we may want something to drink before bed,” Kita tells him as if it wasn’t obvious.

“And you were wonderin’ why I’d want her to adopt me,” Atsumu shakes his head. “I’m gonna have ta send her a thank you card for all this.”

“She’d enjoy that,” Kita admits. “Though I do feel some type of way about you and grannie becomin’ pen pals, I gotta say.”

Atsumu barks out a laugh and takes another sip of his hot chocolate. It’s refreshing to be able to do something other than just mope in their dorm room. “I do ‘ppreciate y’all inviting me over for the weekend,” Atsumu says, cupping his mug between both hands.

“Grannie’s pleased as punch to have ya.” Kita’s doing his note quite a smile smile, and he takes a sip of his own drink before he speaks again. “And I’m glad ta see that yer feelin’ a little better. Ya had me worried there for a little bit.”

“Did I?” Atsumu’s a bit wary of where this conversation is going.

“Ya did.” Kita nods. “I’ve only known ya for a few months, but that’s been long enough to know that yer not a quitter nor a slacker. It was pretty odd seein’ ya mope about like that instead of shakin’ things off like ya usually do. Was startin’ to think that ya wouldn’t bounce back.”

“Oh.” He says, feeling small all of a sudden. “I kinda figured that you’d think I was just a dumbass.” He takes another hasty gulp of his drink so he doesn’t say anything stupid to follow that.

“I believe effort should be rewarded,” Kita says mildly. “I think that sometimes, a person tries real hard at something and still doesn’t meet expectations, but that doesn’t make them or their efforts any less valid.” He pauses for a moment, letting the shrill chirps of the cicadas wash over them as he collects his thoughts. “And I believe that when you practice something over and over, it’s only sensible to not be nervous about it. Atsumu.” He says, and when Atsumu turns he finds Kita’s amber eyes pinning him with a sharp stare. “I’ve got no idea why ya failed that midterm. But I know that ya did yer best and did everything ya could to prepare, and that’s something ya should be proud of. So please don’t let it keep ya down forever.”

Silence settles between them and stretches out long, as long and warm as the night sky and evening air around them is.

“I thought ya’d be furious with me,” Atsumu whispers. It’s much easier to admit that to the fields of rice in the distance than to the boy sitting next to him. “Thought ya’d think I’d just wasted yer time.”

“It’s not weakness or wasteful to seek ta better yerself.” Kita says simply. “And it’s not foolish to ask others for help if ya need it.” Atsumu starts as a hand is placed gently on his shoulder. “We’ll do better next time.” Kita says, and a small real smile is on his face now.

All at once, it’s too much for Atsumu to handle. He kinda wants to scream and he kinda wants to curl into a ball and not move for the next decade or so, but neither of those options is really viable right now. Instead, he lets exhaustion and emotions overwhelm him and lets himself slump sideways onto his roommate, burrowing his head against Kita’s shoulder with a silent sniffle.

Kita shifts a bit and Atsumu is positive he’s about to be shoved away, but all that happens is that Kita scoots closer so that Atsumu doesn’t have to crane his neck at such an awkward angle. He’s warm and comfy to lean against, just as broad shouldered and nice smelling as Atsumu remembers from crashing into him at the start of the semester. He sends a silent prayer to any and all gods listening, thanking them for giving him Kita as a roommate.

He lingers with his head resting on Kita’s shoulder, sure that any second he’s going to be told to get off but it never comes. The only movement is the flex of muscles that Atsumu is using as a pillow as Kita continues to sip on his own hot chocolate. Neither of them end up moving from that position until Kita’s grandmother calls them to come inside to bed.

That night, Atsumu curls up on the guest bed in well worn but soft blankets that smell just like Kita does. He allows himself to relax and move on then, and he falls asleep swaddled in them, comforted by the warmth and scent surrounding him.

*

It sucks to have to go back to school, especially with his failure still lingering in the back of his mind, but life goes on and Atsumu is nothing if not spiteful enough to keep going. Kita’s grannie sees them off from her front porch, waving and calling after Atsumu not to be a stranger as they begin the trek back to the train station.

It still hurts to get the graded test back and see the same ‘65’ that had been posted online in a tiny red circle at the top of the page. Suna lets out a low whistle. “God, it looks like a murder was committed on your test.”

“Shut up.” Atsumu spits at him, but it’s not like the younger boy is _wrong_. It does in fact look like a red pen has just exploded on the pages of the test. There are marks in red ink all over, wrong answers crossed out and new numbers scribbled to the side.

Suna leans over him, trapping Atsumu at his own desk. “Jeez, did she even take off points for not writing the date?”

“No!” Atsumu protests, and then glances up quickly to make sure that she hadn’t, the bitter old hag. “No, she did not, now go _away_ Sunarin!” He yanks the paper off of his desk, almost tearing it in the process and begins to shove it into his bag, not an easy feat with Suna still standing so close.

Their scuffling attracts the attention of Kita. The older boy slides off of his bed, eyes fixed on the sheets of paper Atsumu is still trying to force into his bag around Suna. “Atsumu?” Kita’s voice sounds funny; he thinks it may be the most conflicted he’s ever heard the older boy sound. “Do ya mind if I see that midterm of yours real quick?”

He has to fight to quash the defensive ‘I mind a lot actually,’ that’s on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he buys himself some time. “For what?”

Kita tilts his head back and forth, obviously mulling something over real hard in his mind. Living with Osamu has given Atsumu plenty of experience with being patient however, so he waits it out. Eventually, Kita nods seemingly to himself and crosses his arms over his chest resolutely.

“Now, I ain’t sure of this, and I want to make that clear before I go on, ya hear?” He stares expectantly at Atsumu, who realizes his roommate is waiting on a response from him. He nods hastily and Kita continues. “I think…..I think something’s wrong with how yer test has been graded, Atsumu.”

He lets what he’s said sink in, giving Atsumu time to process the implications behind that statement.

It’s like the wind has been knocked out of him. It’s like he’s gone to dig up a ball and landed wrong and suddenly breathing is 20 times more complicated than it was a second ago.

“What do you mean?” He manages to get out. Even Suna is frozen by that declaration, glancing back and forth between the two of them with gleaming eyes.

“Lemme see?” Kita asks again instead of answering the question, and this time Atsumu hands over the crumpled paper without a fuss. Kita smooths the sheets of paper out and his eyes skim over the page rapidly. His face gives nothing away.

Surprisingly, it’s Suna who speaks up first. “Well?” The younger boy drawls, feigning disinterest. “Verdict is?”

“The verdict,” Kita says, letting his fingers trail over equations scribbled in the margins with a deep frown. “Is that I think we should go talk to yer professor, Atsumu.” He jerks his head towards the door and Atsumu wastes no time in leaping up and trailing after the other. Even Suna tags along, yanking the door shut behind their little group as they head off towards the math building.

Atsumu lets himself hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyy it occurs to me that I have social media accounts that I can and should add in, just in case anyone wants to yell at me or what not.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ultramarcypan)  
> [tumblr](https://ultramarcypan.tumblr.com/)


	4. traveling

As it turns out, Kita had been absolutely right in his suspicions about Atsumu’s test grade. Their mini field trip to his professor's office had ended with her apologizing profusely to him.

“I’m so sorry, Atsumu.” She’d said as she walked them out of her office. “I imagine you’re not the only one whose grade isn’t right; this is what I get for keeping old test grading keys in my bag. I’ll send an email out to the class for anyone who wants me to double check and make sure. And I’ll add an extra 10-point curve to the test as an apology.”

“‘m glad that it was just a mistake and I’m not an idiot,” Atsumu had told her weakly, ignoring Kita’s Look. “Thanks professor, I’m happy we got this taken’ care of.”

“Bet the Dean of the Math college is gonna _love_ to deal with that fallout.” Suna had snickered as they set off for victory Chinese food. Atsumu honestly couldn’t have cared less about all that. The correction to his grade and the added apology points had made his _actual_ score a whooping 103, which had been enough to push him from the B+ goal into the A- territory, which _also_ meant that Kita was now more than willing to honor their deal, though they’re not going to have a home game until after their break.

All in all, a pretty kickass way to start their real spring break, if he’s being honest.

“I cannot begin ta stress how glad I am that we have a long break coming up,” Atsumu declares to the room.

He’s flopped out on his bed, head hanging over the edge with his legs pressed up against the wall. From his vantage point, he can see Suna roll his eyes while Komori nods eagerly in agreement with him. Kita, as usual, has a blank look on his face.

“I think ya can and ya have Atsumu.”

“Loudly and obnoxiously each time,” Suna adds, and someone in the room scoffs.

“Don’t you think it’s dumb to have a break after midterms and then a week long spring break only like two weeks after that?” Atsumu had honestly kinda forgotten that Sakusa was lurking in the corner of their room, looking vaguely uncomfortable but unwilling to leave. It probably has something to do with Ushijima being out, having been invited to help a professor with a personal study for the duration of break. That or he just thinks that having Komori and Kita in the same room will be enough to make Suna and Atsumu tolerable. Jury’s still out.

His cousin shrugs. “I dunno Kiyoomi, I’m just glad that we made it to spring break at all. Midterms were brutal, and a three day break just wasn’t enough recovery time from that ordeal.”

“Seconded,” Suna says. “Besides, with the break being a week this time, I’ll actually get some time to go see Osamu, which will be nice.”

“Gross.” Atsumu makes a face. “Relationships.”

“Atsumu,” Kita scolds at the same time that Suna says “Suck it, you’re just jealous,” which leads to a round of giggles from Komori and another disgusted scoff from Sakusa.

“Still, I guess Sunarin has a point.” Atsumu shoves himself off of the wall, sitting cross legged on his bed instead. “It would be nice to actually go _do_ something instead of just bumming around campus for the week.” 

“Maybe we could!” Komori has pushed himself up from where he’s sprawled out on the floor. On his hands and knees, he crawls over to where he’d thrown his bag down when he walked in and begins to ferret through it.

“Don’t play games with my heart, ‘Toya.” Suna chucks a pencil at his roommate. It bounces off his back and in Sakua’s general direction, who steps away from it like it’s going to bite him. “If you’ve gotten my hopes up only to crush them, I’m never bringing you pity Starbucks ever again.”

“I would _never,"_ The brunette has a cheeky grin on his face, even as he places his hand on his heart in a sincere gesture. He pulls his other hand from his bag to produce his phone with a flourish. “Behold!”

“A phone!” Atsumu says with a mocking gasp, swooning dramatically. “My god, all our prayers have been answered, why didn’t I think of that?” Komori scoops back up the pencil Suna had thrown at him and aims it at Atsumu. His throw connects with his intended target, but it does very little damage.

“As it so happens,” Komori says, while his thumbs type away on his phone. “Our family” he jerks his head back at Sakusa to indicate who ‘our’ means “happens to have a lake house that all of us use for vacation. And I _think_ that it just may be free this upcoming week and I’m pretty sure my parents won’t mind us using it as long as we don’t, you know, wreck the place.” He glances up briefly to spare a look at Atsumu. “Well, everyone except Atsumu because he’s a jerk and doesn’t deserve nice things.”

Suna cheers and even Sakusa’s face threatens to twitch into a smirk. “No rights for Atsumu!”

Atsumu lets out a loud wail and flings himself off of his bed in the direction of his roommate’s. “Kita-san!”

“Y’all,” Kita interjects with a slow drawl. He snaps shut the textbook he’d been reading over and scoots back a bit to allow Atsumu fully up onto his bed. “Don’t be so mean to Atsumu, he’s delicate.” His hands find Atsumu’s shoulder and rubs gently. “Reign in yer teasin’ if ya don’t mind.”

Atsumu delights in being spoiled by Kita, especially since he’s the only one who seems to get this special treatment. He butts his head up against Kita’s leg and is rewarded by a pat to the head. He hides his shit eating smile in the blankets of Kita’s bed.

Suna rolls his eyes but relents. “ _Anyway_ ,” he says, turning back to his roommate. “You rich bitch,” Suna’s words are rough, but there's no animosity in his tone and he’s got his usual foxy grin in place. “You _would_ have a family lake house.”

“And just for _that_ comment,” Komrori says cheerfully, “You’re the one we’re gonna strap to the roof of the car.” Atsumu is beginning to see exactly why it is that Komori and Suna get along so well. “But because I’m _sweet_ , I’ll even generously suggest that you also invite Osamu along once I get permission from my family.”

His phone chooses that moment to ping loudly, and he swipes his thumb to open the message with all eyes in the room on him. “Better call your bae, Sunarin.” Komori lobs his phone back on top of his bag. “I have just been granted clearance!”

Atsumu and Suna cheer at the same time, clapping loudly; Komori pushes himself up onto his knees again and does a formal half bow. “More, more praise, tell me how amazing I am.”

Sakuska nudges his cousin with his foot, causing the other boy to topple forward in a heap. “Can’t believe you're going to let these degenerates anywhere near the lake house.” He shakes his head. “It's a disaster waiting to happen.”

Komori barks out a bright laugh, not the least bit put out at having been knocked over. “Don’t be sore Kiyoomi! You know you’d be totally into this if Ushijima-kun was coming along!” Sakusa’s foot returns with considerably more force this time, probably out of embarrassment if the flush on his cheeks is anything to go by. “Ow! Stoppit Kiyo, I still need my kidneys!”

“If I’m the one strapped to the roof of the car, does that mean you’ll be the one driving?” Suna asks. He’s choosing to ignore the attempted murder of his roommate, far too preoccupied with texting Osamu presumably to invite him along.

“Yeah!” Komori says, rolling away from the foot still pressing down on him. “My car should be big enough to fit us all.”

“To clarify,” Atsumu drawls, rolling to face the room properly again. “Who is ‘all’?”

“Me and Kiyoomi, of course,” Komori starts, ticking names off on his fingers as he goes. “And you, and Suna and Osamu annnnnd…..” he glances over at the other occupant of the room, who is still calmly observing them all. “Kita too, if he wants?”

He leaves the statement as more of an open ended question, head tilted. Kita blinks owlishly at them all. “I was supposed to be goin’ to stay with grannie over break.”

Atsumu pushes himself up, reaching for Kita’s hands as he does. He clasps them between his own, takes a moment to memorize how all the callouses on the others palm feel, and then squeezes them tightly. “Aww, c’mon Kita-san! It’ll be super fun! Think of it like a team-building sort of thing!”

“And just what team are we? Other than a team of misfits, I mean.”

Komori bats at his cousin’s foot, dancing back out of reach again when Sakusa gets into prime kicking position. “Technically, Atsumu and you are on the school's volleyball team. And we” pointing to Suna and himself “play pickup games with you guys all the time.”

“Don’t remind me.” Atsumu’s so wrapped up in convincing Kita that he should join them, he doesn’t even register the jab at his person. Omi-omi’s bitter on his best days, and this is _important_.

Kita looks around the room, to Komori who is wiggling his eyebrows, Suna whose eyes are glinting, Sakuasa who couldn’t look less interested if he tried, and Atsumu who is practically in his lap and vibrating with anticipation. “Pllllease?” Atsumu repeats, giving Kita his best puppy dog eyes.

As if sensing it’s a lost cause to fight, Kita huffs a small, amused sigh. “I’ll call grannie later tonight and see if she’s okay with me skippin’ this break with her.”

This time, it’s Atsumu, Suna, _and_ Komori who cheer. Sakusa mumbles something that sounds like ‘good, we need at least one real adult on this trip’ but he gets ignored. Atsumu lifts his hands in his exuberance, forgetting that he’s still clinging tight to his roommate. As a result, Kita also gets yanked up with more force than he was ready for and ends up toppling into Atsumu. “Whoops?” Kita untangles himself with care. When he settles back down, he’s barely lifted a brow at Atsumu before the younger boy is apologizing. “Sorry! I’m just real excited about this!”

“I regret this already,” Sakusa announces with a disgusted shake of his head. He steps over Komori, who is still sprawled out along the floor, and heads back into the relative safety of his own room.

(Later that night, as Atsumu is busy in the bathroom brushing his teeth before bed, he can hear Kita talking on the phone with his grannie. He strains to hear what’s being said, leaving his toothbrush dangingling out of his mouth as he presses up against the door as discreetly as he can. 

‘If yer sure, grannie.’ A pause where Atsumu assumes Kita’s grandmother is speaking. ‘Yes. I’ll let them know then. Yes. Of course.’ Another long pause. ‘Grannie,’ Kita says, with just a hint of something in his voice that Atsumu can’t place. ‘I know, I know. I love you too. I’ll see you after the break then.’

He stops listening because Kita’s coming along with them, and what else could he need to know past that?If Atsumu fist pumps in factory and does a stupid dance in joy, well, at least there’s no one there to judge him.)

*

The lake house turns out to be about a two and half hour drive from campus, which isn’t terribly far but isn’t terribly close either. It also means that Komori fully expects them up at the ass crack of dawn to get there while the day is still young to maximize time there; Atsumu only agrees to it because Komori also promises to stop for breakfast at a drive through once they’ve been on the road for thirty minutes or so.

They’ve agreed to meet in the parking lot of the dorm. Komori had gone ahead to get his car, leaving the rest of the group plus Osamu, who’d been picked up by Suna the night prior, huddled together around their bags stifling yawns. All except Kita, who looks far more alert and functioning than should be legal at such an early time.

“Yer roommate has about 5 more minutes to get here,” Osamu says to Suna around a jaw cracking yawn. “Otherwise I’m gonna curl up on the bags and go back to bed.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes and shakes himself to stay up. “C’mon ‘Samu, some energy would be nice. This break is gonna be cathartic for all of us!”

The group stares at him. “What?”

“Guess your B in English wasn’t a mistake after all, Miya,” Sakusa says, turning his head away to hide a smirk. “Or do you happen to have a word a day calendar?”

Atsumu debates lunging for him, then decides that it would require too much energy that he just doesn’t have himself, despite him scolding his brother for the very same thing. He settles instead for making a rude gesture in Sakusa’s direction, sticking his tongue out for good measure.

“Who needs catharsis when you’re sleeping?” Osamu asks around another yawn. He burrows into Suna’s side, tucking his head neatly into the crook of his boyfriend’s shoulder.

They’re all saved from having to answer that question by a beat up old minivan that pulls to halt in front of them. The paint is peeling in places and there are too many scratches and dings on it for Atsumu to count, his A in math be damned. The window rolls down to reveal Komori grinning at them. “Get in losers, we’re going to the lake house.”

“Oh my god.” Suna is abruptly very alert and amused. “You would have a mom minivan ‘Toya.” He shakes his shoulder to dislodge Osamu, who is still trying his best to meld directly into him.

“You watch what you say, I’ll fight for the honor of Tic Tac.” The minivan chirps as Komori unlocks the doors and pops the trunk open.

“I’m sorry?” Atsumu is taken aback and almost at a loss for words. “What the hell did you just say to us?”

Sakusa shoulders past him, his bag hefted in one hand. “He named his car.” He deadpans, yanking on the passenger door. With a careful swing, he tosses his bag onto the floor of the seat and climbs up after it. Suna and Osamu have moved to pick up their own bags and tuck them into the trunk, slipping into the middle row of the minivan--Tic Tac, apparently--when they’re done.

“Seriously?” He picks up his own bag and walks to the trunk, where Kita is also piling his own bag neatly onto the stack. His roommate takes his bag from him and shoos him off, returning Atsumu’s thankful beam with a tiny smile of his own. He climbs into the car and shimmies to go sit in the seats in the very back, making sure to whack Osamu in the face as he does so. “No one thinks that’s weird?”

Sakusa twists around to face him. “It causes my physical pain to admit this, Miya, but yes, I think it’s very weird he named his car Tic Tac. I’ve also learned that it’s pointless to try to argue with him on it, so I’ll advise you to give up before you start on that one.” Atsumu nods, taking the rare moment to commiserate with his teammate about how fucking weird their whole little group truly is.

“ ‘s no harm it it.” There’s a thump from the back of the car and then Kita appears. He scoots in to sit next to Atsumu, pulling the door closed behind him as he does. “Don’t see why it’s a big deal.” Atsumu is only vaguely aware that that statement directed at him because he’s a bit too busy focusing on how close he and Kita are; their knees keep brushing and Atsumu is stuck by the realization that he hasn’t been this close to the older boy since he’d more or less cuddled him on his grandmother’s porch. He doesn’t get to dwell on that, however, because Kita keeps speaking, addressing Komori this time. “Bags are all in and the trunk's closed, we’re good to go.”

“ _Thank you_ Kita, I’m glad someone in this car has taste.” Komori adjusts the rearview mirror, messes with the control panel so that the air conditioning kicks on, and shifts slightly in his seat. “Now let’s get this show on the road gang!”

*

By the time they’re pulling into the driveway of the lake house hours later, everyone is considerably more awake and ready to start their break in earnest. Komori’s barely pulled to a full stop before Atsumu is shoving forward on his brother’s seat and flinging himself out onto solid ground.

“Watch it ya ass!” Osamu snarls at him, tripping over himself to follow his brother out of the car. He tackles Atsumu and they end up in a struggle. The rest of the group follows them out in a much more orderly fashion. Kita, the only functioning adult on the trip, ignores the brawl and heads to the trunk to start unpacking all the luggage. 

Suna saunters over to them both, reaching in quickly to separate his boyfriend from the brawl. “Boys,” he says, grinning. “Can we maybe not?”

“You’ve been here all of 30 seconds, how are you already misbehaving?” Sakuasa doesn’t bother to mask his disgust. “I can and will drown you in the lake. Don’t test me.”

With the threat of death looming over them, Atsumu and Osamu shelf their feud for the time being and go to help Kita unload the bags and coolers of food. Between the three of them, it doesn’t take long, and the process is expedited even further as Suna and Komori start hauling them all into the house as they go along. 

With all the bags in (dropped unceremoniously in the entryway, but in nonetheless) they all gather back to lock the minivan. “Alright, vacation time!”

“Hold on, some ground rules before I lose you gremlins--and Kita--onto the house.” Komori grins as Atsumu and Osamu yelp in protest. “Now, you break anything, I break you. And you’re paying to replace it. This is non-negotiable.”

“Fair,” Kita says, nodding along. “What else?”

“We’re all adults with phones but buddy system if you’re gonna go on a midnight stroll or whatever and like, leave a note or something so we know where you went. It’s a pretty safe area but it is the woods, I’m not taking the risk of losing someone.” Then, with a knowing glance at Suna and Osamu. “Say like, a pair of lovebirds, just for example.”

“If you’re done calling me out,” Suna drawls, kicking a pebble at his roommate. “Go on with the rules maybe?”

“Sure!” Komori’s voice is sweet as syrup as he bats his eyes innocently at the other. “Last rule isn’t so much a rule as it is rooming assignments; it’s a three bedroom house including the master, but uh, Kiyoomi and I are taking that, our house our rules. That leaves two guest rooms, so two in each room. Up to you guys how you want to divide it, but I was kind of assuming Suna and Osamu would bunk together and Kita and Atsumu since you two,” he gestures to Suna and Osamu “are dating and you two,” here, he points to Atsumu and Kita, “are roommates already. Speak now or hold your peace if you disagree.”

The four in question share glances between each other. “Sounds just peachy to me.” Atsumu says.

“Wonderful.” Komori flings both his arms up in a cheer. “Now go put your junk away, throw on a bathing suit, and last one into the lake has to do the dishes after dinner tonight!”

*

The last one into the lake ends up being Sakuska, who actually doesn’t get into the lake at all, citing a number of algae and bacteria that could be growing in it. He opts to sit on a chair at the edge of the water, tucked away under a shady tree with a book in his lap and a drink to the side.

In sharp contrast to him is his cousin; Komori is floating about 15 feet away from the shore on a pool float that looks like a donut. All his limbs are splayed out dangling off the sides of the float, and his head lolls backwards and earbuds in, with his phone zipped up in a waterproof pouch tucked into a pocket of the float. He’s got his eyes closed and is humming along to whatever song is playing, blissfully ignorant of the twins who are engaged in a serious water fight two feet or so from him.

“Stop!” Atsumu howls as he gets drenched. “Ceasefire, I can’t fuckin’ see!”

“This is war,” Osamu declares. “There is no mercy, and there sure ain’t gonna be any ceasefire.” He doesn’t let up as he continues to slap water in his brother’s direction, creating miniature waves that ripple out.

With no other choice, Atsumu sucks in a breath and dives underwater. Blindly, he swims a few strokes in a direction he knows is away from Osamu, only risking coming up when he feels he’s out of range of the splash zone. Violently, he shakes his head and brings his hands up to wipe at his face, blinking hard to get the water out.

He has successfully escaped is the first thing he notes; Osamu is now behind him, jeering about how he’s a coward. The second thing he notices is that he’s surfaced by the pier of the lakehouse and there’s a pair of legs right next to him. “Kita-san, I’m gettin’ bullied again!”

Kita glances down at him. “Are ya now?” Kita swings his legs, sending yet another mini wave in Atsumu’s direction. “‘cause from where I was sitting, it looks like the one to instigate it all was you.” 

“It absolutely was.” Suna has appeared out of nowhere, sunglasses perched on his head and a water volleyball in his hands. “He’s lying if he tells you otherwise.”

Atsumu grabs the pier and hoists himself up, batting at Suna’s ankles. He manages to get a grip on one, but the other boy shakes him off with ease, sending him back into the water with a splash. The volleyball is then thrown at his head, and he has to dive back down to avoid a mild concussion. “Rude!”

“So is your existence. Now give me that ball back.” Suna reaches his hand down expectantly.

“This?” Atsumu hefts it up with a shit eating grin. “If ya want it, you should probably go get it!” Without looking, he chucks it with as much force as he can muster behind him. There’s a dull thud and then a lot of splashing and flailing followed by a curse cut short.

When he glances back, the raft that Komori had been in is suspiciously empty and upside down. “Oops.”

“God you are such a brat.” Suna takes a few steps back before running and launching himself off the pier. He lands midway from the land and Komori, who has come up sputtering by this point. “You good ‘Toya?”

They get a thumbs up. “Fantastic.” Komori runs a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up every which way. “Was just starting to get hot and needed a dip, thanks for being so on top of my well being.”

“That,” Suna drawls, wading over, “Is all Atsumu.”

Komori hums, righting his float as Osamu cackles. “Was it now? So sweet, so kind, so thoughtful.” And then, looking directly at him. “Sleep with one eye open tonight.”

“Kita-san will protect me!” Atsumu declares with confidence he doesn’t feel at _all_. To help plead his case, he hoists himself fully out of the water this time and settles down next to his roommate on the pier. He leans into the older boy, not at all caring that he’s getting Kita soaking wet as well. “Right?”

Kita reaches over to ruffle his hair. “Ya shouldn’t pick fights ya ain’t gonna finish, Atsumu.” And then, sensing the impending whine that’s building, he’s quick to add, “But I guess so, if only ‘cause the two of us are gonna be sharing a room and I wanna be able to sleep through the night myself.”

“Fine, you win this one. But I will get you back eventually.” Komori shakes his head vigorously, sending water droplets everywhere. “Now, where the hell did that volleyball go? May as well join in since I’ve already gotten to know it so intimately.”

“Gonna join in, shit head?” Osamu hollers as he swims over to where Suna and Komori have formed up.

“Maybe in a lil’ bit!” He shouts back. His brother shrugs and positions himself in a triangle with the other two who have already started to toss the ball back and forth.

Atsumu takes a moment to breathe in the fresh air, letting his head tip back and appreciating the sun on bare skin. He let’s the breath out in a content sigh, falling backwards to lie flat against the pier. The wood is warm underneath him, pleasantly so. He turns his head to stare at Kita, who is watching him with his typical unreadable expression. “It’s real nice out here, isn’t it Kita-san?”

“It is,” Kita agrees. “I’m glad I agreed to come along with y’all.”

“Really?” Atsumu raises a brow.

“Yeah.” Kita leans back on his own hands so that his gaze is more level with Atsumu’s. “Takin’ a break is important, and it’s good to have a change of pace every once in a while.” Kita blinks as he tilts his head back as well. “College only lasts four years, and they can be a doozy. Four years ain’t that long when you consider all that ya gotta do in ‘em.”

“And what all is it that ya gotta do?”

Kita turns back to him. “Well, graduate for starters. Figure out where you wanna go in life. Learn how to live on yer own and support yerself.” He shrugs. “All the adult stuff that isn’t necessarily fun but still important. But then ya also gotta grow into yerself as a person, I think. Find out who you really are, what stuff really matters to ya. Find people who share those ideals with you, make friends that will have yer back. It’s the time to make memories to look back on.”

Atsumu turns that over in his mind. “Memories, huh?”

It’s a funny concept. On principal, he’s not a sentimental person. He has things that he likes, yeah, stuff he’s bought and collected, but most of his material goods could vanish overnight and he wouldn't think twice about it. Living in the moment is where Atsumu shines, with this drive to always push himself harder, faster, further, to constantly improve the version of himself that he presently is. What use are things or memories when it comes to the future, which is an ever changing, uncertain beast that doesn’t care about how things used to be?

Kita’s still staring at him, clearly expecting him to expand on his statement but Atsumu doesn’t have a kind way to phrase his thoughts so he opts not to. Instead, he changes the topic completely.

“Kita-san? Can I ask ya a question?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Yer tattoo.” Atsumu starts, fidgeting. He rolls so that he’s on his side on the pier, propped up on one elbow. It’s a relatively safe topic, and one that’s been bugging him for days now.

“That again?” Kita raises a brow. “What about it now?”

Of the six of them out there, only Sakuska and Kita still have shirts on. Osamu and Atsumu had stripped the second the lake was in sight (Atsumu claims he’d gotten his shirt off a second before Osamu). Suna and Komori had followed, considerably slower and with no small amount of eye rolls. Sakusa had looked repulsed at the very concept of stripping out in the elements (his words, not Atsumu’s) and Kita had begged off with the excuse of trying to avoid sunburn since his skin was much paler than the rest of the groups.

Atsumu had mourned the lack of skin for several reasons, but the only one he’s willing to admit to himself is that he won’t be able to get a clear glimpse of the tattoo he’d seen. But, since he’s also a believer of living in the moment and saying whatever happens to be on his mind, he’s decided not to let something as trivial as a white cotton t-shirt keep him from what he wants.

“What…what is it?” He even almost gets the question out without stuttering, which he’s very proud of thank you very much.

Kita stares at him.

“What?” Atsumu shoves himself up, using volume and a bright grin to hide his anxiety. “Is it some big ole secret?” He lets out a dramatic gasp. “Is it something _scandalous_?”

Kita swats him on the shoulder. “It is not, and I’d ‘ppreciate you not implying that.”

“Sorry. So, not scandalous, but is it a secret?” Atsumu had perfected the art of wearing someone down for information when he and Osamu had been five years old. A twin, as it turns out, means you have a constant practice target that is also willing to give as good as it takes.

His roommates lips twitch in what appears to be fond exasperation. “Didja want to just see it, since ya seem to be so invested in it?”

Oh. Well, he can’t say he was expecting this, but he’s also not against it. “Sure!” He has a few seconds to mentally prepare while Kita reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up and over his head.

Before, Atsumu hadn’t been expecting to see black lines curing delicately along snow white skin; the combination of the blistering heat that day, his leftover bitterness about failing to make good on his promise with Kita, and the general absurdity of someone as straight laced as the other having a tattoo had let him woefully unprepared to process what he’d managed to glimpse. This time, though, it’s a different story.

Kita folds his shirt neatly and sets it to the side. His muscles ripple as he does so, and Atsumu, whose attention if focused solely on the tattoo, watches it move with the motion as well. “Well damn.” He breathes out.

It’s a fox. What kind, Atsumu has not the slightest clue, but it is cute as shit, lying down with it’s tail wrapped around it’s nose and it’s eyes closed. There’s no color to it, but the lines are finely detailed and it’s a beautiful picture. The tattoo itself isn’t much bigger than Atsumu’s palm; he feels confident that he could cup his hand around Kita’s rib and cover the thing entirely.

With a jolt, he realizes his body is acting on that thought without his consent. His hand has twitched upward, and he has to fight down the urge to bring his fingers up to trace against the slim black ink lines that are painted on Kita’s ribs, passing it off as an awkward stretch instead.

“Why a fox?” 

“They’re cute.”

Atsumu’s sure for a second he hasn’t heard that properly. “Pardon?”

Kita blinks at him, amber eyes glittering. “Foxes are cute. I like Arctic foxes most of all, so it’s the one I got a tattoo of.” Another flutter of his eyes and then, “That’s it really, no deeper reason or nothin’. Wakatoshi and I both got a tattoo our freshman year from a tattoo parlor not too far from campus.”

It’s all too much at once. “Ushijima-san has a tattoo?” Atsumu manages to get out without hyperventilating.

“Yeah.” Kita nods. “It’s a cow, if memory serves.”

“Ushijimia-san has a cow tattoo,” Atsumu repeats weakly.

“It’s on the inside of his left wrist.” Kita adds helpfully. “Ya just can’t see it usually because his watch covers it.”

“Does Omi Omi know this?” It occurs to Atsumu suddenly that he doesn’t have to be the only one processing this reality where the two people he’d assumed least likely to have a tattoo not only have one, but got them done _together_ apparently.

“Dunno. Ya’d have to ask him.”

“Can I touch it?” Oops. That question wasn’t supposed to come out, which is the downside of having not a shred of shame in his brain to mouth filter. He’s ready to backpedal or play it off as a joke but Kita beats him to the punch.

“I guess? If ya really wanna.”

He does. He _very_ much does, partly because he’s curious to see if he can feel the bumps of the lines at all, but also because the idea of getting to touch Kita skin to skin in such a sensitive spot is a rush all on it’s own. Tentatively, he lifts his hand back up again and hovers just over the fox; when Kita doesn’t pull away or react, he steadies himself and lets his fingers brush up against the lines.

The first thing he’s able to process is that the tattoo is entirely flat; the skin his fingers trail against is smooth and warm, with no physical sign that ink has been put under it. The second thing he’s able to process is just how warm Kita really is, and he takes a second to ponder if the older boy just runs warm perpetually, since he can’t think of a time he’s brushed against the other to find him cold.

The third and arguably most important thing Atsumu processes is that his hand CAN in fact cover the tattoo entirely, and the sharp contrast of his tanned skin and calloused fingers against the snow white smoothness of Kita’s ribs is doing things to his heart and head that he’s not at all capable of dealing with. He lets his palm press flat against the tattoo, and he can feel Kita’s heartbeat.

Kita doesn’t move an inch. He’s staring with that damn blank poker face he’s perfected, and Atsumu doesn’t have the slightest clue what’s going on in his head.

It’s alarmingly more intimate than Atsumu ever intended it to be. He tries to speak but his words get lodged in his throat, leaving him with a lump that’s near impossible to swallow around and makes it hard to breathe. Kita’s heart thumps out a steady beat against his palm and he’s hot all over now but not from the sun. The silence between them stretches and Atsumu still doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Atsumu…” Kita says softly. He swallows hard around the lump, willing his voice to work.

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse and rough like he’s been yelling, even though he’s sure Kita has to strain to hear him even though they’re right next to each other.

He doesn’t get to find out what Kita was going to say.

The moment gets shattered when something hard and soaking wet collides with his head. Atsumu flails wildly, startled, and in his panic ends up flopping off of the pier. He pops back out of the water to see Kita staring at him, eyes wide with concern, and the volleyball the others had been playing with floating nearby. With the sun backing him, his roommate looks otherworldly and divine, and Atsumu stares dumbly for a few seconds before shaking his head roughly. He’ll chalk it up to brain damage from being assaulted.

“Hah!” Komori shouts. He’s bobbing up and down in the lake triumphantly while Suna and Osamu cackle. “Some volleyball player you are! Toldja I was going to get you back Atsumu!”

Atsumu sputters loudly, slapping the surface of the water in his frustration. “Dammit Komori! I can take a little bit of revenge no biggie, but I won’t stand for this slander of my volleyball skills!” Kita’s still staring at him with an intense gaze, his lips parted just a bit but Astumu, ever the coward, turns away and splashes over to where the others are.

“Ya can join in if yer done coppin’ a feel of Kita’s abs,'' Osamu snickers, and drowning his twin becomes the number one priority for Atsumu all of a sudden.

*

Hours later, he finds himself sitting on the overstuffed couch in the lake house’s living room, full and tired, but happier than he’s been in a while. Komori and Sakusa have turned in for the night, but the rest of them are still up.

“Yer not good for much, but I will say you make a half decent cook.” He says to his brother, patting his stomach.

“Thanks,” Osamu deadpans at him. “I live for yer validation after all.”

His twin is on the couch opposite, sitting half on the cushion and half in Suna’s lap. Kita wanders over to them, a try full of steaming mugs in his hands. “Tea for ya’ll, if ya want it.” Suna leans forward and grabs two, handing one off to Osamu. The tray gets placed on the nearby coffee table and Kita picks up the remaining two mugs, offering one to Atsumu who takes it with a mumbled thanks.

“This was a good decision.” Suna declares, taking a sip from his own mug. “We all needed a break from work and stress.” He shifts so that he can free one arm to wrap around Osamu’s shoulders, tugging him closer in the process. Osamu tucks himself neatly into the taller boy’s armpit, mushing his face against Suna’s chest. One of his brother’s hands, the one not still holding his cup, comes up to press against Suna’s side, fingers splayed wide.

It’s not so dissimilar from how he was touching Kita earlier that afternoon.

That thought makes him freeze.

His brow scrunches as he traces that train of thought back. Osamu had curled up next to his boyfriend of 4 years and placed his hand on Suna’s chest without a second thought, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Atsumu’s brain had instantly equated it to how he’d been touching Kita.

Something about that wasn’t adding up.

“Hold on,” Atsumu says, holding a hand up for silence. He’s on the cusp of a realization, something that’s been in the back of his mind for months now.

“Stand back everyone, Atsumu is thinking.” Suna teases him, but he barely registers it.

Atsumu’s a touchy person (both emotionally and physically, if you ask his brother). He’s used to solving arguments with Osamu and even Suna on occasion with his fists. He’s not afraid of hugging his friends, or flinging his arms around someone’s shoulder in the middle of a conversation. He’s never shied away from a high-five or shoulder bump. Mulling it over, he decides that it’s not the fact that he’s touched Kita that sets his senses on edge.

Maybe it’s a selective thing then. Carefully, he thinks about if he touches the others in their group the same way he tends to hang all over Kita. Sakusa on principle doesn’t let others touch him, but for sure he’s had his hand on Komori’s shoulder or hugged him before. Even Ushijima has been subjected to a few friendly slaps on the back, so no, it’s not a touch aversion thing he confirms to himself.

Okay, so then maybe it’s the placement. Hugs are one thing, yeah, but it is kinda odd to just rest your hand against someone’s ribs and have them be totally chill about it if you aren’t 1. related or 2. dating.

Stop. Back up. 

Dating. Suna and Osamu are dating. It makes total sense for them to be grossly mushy and for Osamu to touch him in ways he wouldn't for others.

Only, Atsumu isn’t dating Kita.

But Kita had still let him touch sensitive parts of his body, under the pretense of examining his tattoo sure, but still. And Kita was oddly lientint with Atsumu touching him in general, though he was kinda that way with everyone. Or rather, it made more sense that Kita didn’t mind people touching him, but he was rarely the one to initiate contact. That seemed to be something he reserved for Atsumu alone, which yeah he was pretty pleased with, no harm in that. Still doesn’t mean that they’re DATING though, or even anything other than really good friends and roommates.

Not that he’d _mind_ dating Kita, per say, it’s just weird that---

Oh.

Oh. He has a crush on Kita. That would make sense.

Oh. Well, fuck.

He stands, adrenaline thrumming through his veins, almost tripping over himself in the process. His mug gets placed back on the tray. “Don’t know about you guys, but I’m tired. Think I’m gonna go turn in now.” He grins, showing just a few too many teeth to make it come off nonchalant, and turns away before his carefully crafted mask can crack.

“G’night,” Kita calls after him, and he raises a hand in noncommittal acknowledgement.

He knows Suna’s suspicious of his not so graceful exit and Osamu probably is well aware of his inner turmoil--with his freaky twink link and all that--but he can deal with the two of them in the morning, preferably in _private._

He’s on autopilot as he gets ready for bed, pulling his pajamas over his head. He has a crush on Kita. Somehow he has a huge stupid crush on his _roommate,_ the person he has to share close living quarters with for the rest of the semester. “Fuck,” he whispers into the silent room. “Fuck, I’m in so much trouble.” 

He can’t deal with this right now. They’re at the lake house for another 4 days, and he actually, literally, physically _cannot_ deal with his sudden realization. He’s ignored his fucking _feelings_ for months, what’s one more week in the grand scheme of things. It’ll be fine, he’ll fake it till he makes it, get through this week like he doesn’t have a burning desire to have Kita kiss him and hold him, and then he’ll deal with it when he gets back to campus somehow.

Atsumu isn’t sure how long he lays there, just turning the idea of his newfound affection for Kita having a totally different connotation over in his head, but it must be a while because he hears the hallway creek outside the door, announcing someone’s presence. He rolls to face the wall and tries to level out his breathing. 

He hears the door open and a sliver of light peeks through for a moment before it gets swallowed up by darkness again. Atsumu squeezes his eyes tight and prays that Kita won’t notice he’s faking being asleep. He can hear the other moving around the room, footsteps muffled by the carpet. The other bed in the room creaks and the sheets rustle for a few moments before the room is enveloped in silence again. In the dark Atsumu listens to Kita’s breathing and does his best not to think about bright yellow eyes, tiny smiles, and pale, warm skin.

It’s going to be a very, VERY long break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pictured Kita's tattoo looking kinda like [this ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/58/9d/e8/589de85c3a7afa3dbc2b49463841e256.png), if anyone's interested!


	5. myths

Suna had met the twins on the first day of high school in their sophomore year.

He’d been new to the area, Atsumu remembered, just moved into their sleepy little town fresh from Tokyo and everything about him had SCREAMED city boy, from the bold kohl framing his eyes to his clearly different accent. He remembers going to meet Osamu for lunch in the cafeteria to find his brother already sitting with a dark haired mystery boy.

“Suna.” Osamu had introduced him when Atsumu had turned to him for an explanation. “Suna Rintarou, fresh from the city, in my class this year.” Atsumu waits for Osamu to expand on that, maybe explain why the hell he’s brought the new boy to come sit with them but Osamu had seemed much more invested in scraping his pudding clean than giving him any clues. Suna, Atsumu remembers, had watched their exchange with dark, wary eyes like at any moment Atsumu was going to tell him to get lost and leave them to their business. 

Instead, he’d yanked one of the free chairs at the table back and dropped into it, sizing the other up. “Suna.” He had said, trying the name out.

“That’s me.” Suna had been tense and stilted when he responded, lips pressed into a thin pale line and green eyes narrowed.

“Miya Atsumu.” He’d introduced himself, not at all put off by the vaguely hostile vibes the other was giving off. “But everyone calls me Atsumu because that leech over there had the audacity to steal my looks.”

“Go fuck yerself, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu had said, without looking up from his pudding. Suna’s eyes had widened just a tiny bit at the abrasive comment. “Don’t listen to a word he says Suna, the dumbass doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together.”

“Don’t lie to Sunarin.” Suna’s eyebrows hit his hairline, but he didn’t say anything to oppose the nickname. “People say yer the Nice Twin, but I live with you and can personally vouch that that ain’t true.” He rips open the bag of chips he’d bought from the vending machine, shoving a few in his mouth before offering the bag to his brother. Predictably, Osamu had scooped a generous handful out for himself and Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Pig.” He turned to Suna and shook the bag. “Want some?”

Suna had hesitated only a fraction of a second before reaching out. “Sure,” he answered with a much steadier voice. “Who am I to turn down free food?”

“I can see why ‘Samu took a shine to you.” Atsumu had yanked his chip bag back before Osamu could reach in for another helping. “Someone who understands the importance of free food? Fate musta put you two in the same class.”

“Yer so embarrassing.” Osamu's head had hit the table, and he’d groaned. “This is why nobody else sits with us.”

“Correction. Nobody sits with us because we’re too cool for them to handle.” He’d chanced a side glance at the new boy. “Consider yerself blessed Sunarin. The vetting process for lettin’ people sit with us is not somethin’ a lotta people get through.”

“I’m honored.”

“On the off chance yer buyin’ any of the bullshit ‘Tsumu’s tellin’ you,” Osamu had interrupted with his cheek squished against the table. “Most people don’t sit with us because he’s got a shit personality and it’s no secret.” Suna’s eyes had warmed just a fraction more.

“Well color me surprised.”

“If my personality is so awful,” Atsumu had said, aiming a kick at his brother under the table, “Then please explain why so many people show up to scream my name at practice?”

“To give the team some amusement when you flub yer serve because yer easily distracted?” Another kick, only for Atsumu to yelp in pain as he’d missed his target and instead hit the metal bar of the table.

“What team are we talking about now?” Suna had propped his hand up in his chin, looking way more at ease.

“Volleyball,” Osamu had grunted, aiming a kick of his own. He’d been much more successful than his brother, and Atsumu had let out a second yelp. “‘Tsumu and I both play, have since elementary school.”

“No kidding?”

“Would never joke about it.” Atsumu had said, rubbing his shin furiously. “What about you, Sunarin? Are you also the dashing, athletic type? ‘Cause you kinda give off more of a broody, theater kid vibe if I’m bein’ honest.”

Suna had hummed. “Just so happens I am.”

“Well don’t leave us in suspense. What sport?”

The city boy, with his dark rimmed eyes and his hunched shoulders, had leaned forward with a glint in his eyes. “Volleyball, if you can believe it.”

Osamu and Atsumu had shared a look. “No shit. What position?” 

“Middle blocker.” Suna had reached out and snatched Atsumu’s chip bag from him, like he’d been doing it all his life. “You guys?”

“ ‘m a Wing Spiker.” Osamu had said around a snicker, as he also reached out to take some of Atsumu’s chips. “Shitheads the setter for the team. And I hate to have to say this, especially when he can hear me, but he’s actually pretty decent at it.”

“I’m fuckin’ amazing and ya know it ‘Sumu.” Atsumu had tried to snatch his snack back, only to be left blinking when Suna had twisted at an odd, almost painful looking angle and kept it out of his reach. “Neat trick. Do ya also happen to be a contortionist by chance?”

“No, but I’ll keep that in mind for career options.”

Atsumu had hummed, abandoning his food as a lost cause and settling for being petty instead. “Well, I imagine you’ll be tryin’ out for the team here, yeah?” When Suna had nodded, he’d shot the other boy a wicked grin. “Then ya better not disappoint me with yer spikes.”

Osamu had groaned loudly. “God, yer SUCH a little bitch.” And then, to Suna, “ Really, I’m sorry for his existence, but the prima donna gets real bent outta shape if people don’t hit his tosses. No one’s gonna think any less of you if you deck him. Hell, I’ll give you five bucks if ya do it right now.”

A small snort had escaped Suna, almost against his will it seemed. “Think I’ll be just fine as long as you don’t send me any shit tosses.”

Atsumu had blinked once, twice, three times and even Osamu had slowly raised his head up to look between the two of them. Suna had frozen, just barely noticeably, unsure if he’d stepped over a boundary.

And then Atsumu had laughed.

“Oh I  _ like  _ you.” He’d declared. “And if yer gonna talk all high and mighty, I’m lookin’ forward to you puttin’ yer money where yer mouth is.” He’d leaned forward, extending his hand to Suna, who’d taken it with a much firmer grim than he’d expected. “Welcome to town Sunarin.” Atsumu had said with a wink and a grin. “I do believe we’re gonna get along just fine.”

(That afternoon, after Suna had introduced himself to the team, the coach had put him through some practice drills to gauge his abilities. Atsumu had taken care to send him the cleanest, most accurate toss possible. For a single moment, right after Suna had leaped into the air, he’d glanced over and locked eyes with Atsumu. And then he’d slammed his open palm down on the volleyball, sent it into the floor with a whiplike crack that had echoed around the gym, the only sound apart from some impressed whistles and cheers from the rest of the team.

“I guess yer spikes aren’t half bad,” Atsumu had told him after practice, while they’d been huddled together doing cooldown stretches.

Suna, the bastard, had given him the trademark foxy grin that would become so familiar to him. “And I guess you’ve got some talent as a setter.”

“Sunarin,” Osamu had interrupted, fighting back a grin of his own. “Don’t suppose that ya’d wanna tag along with us to get some snacks for studyin’ on the way home, woulda?”)

Within the week, Suna had been integrated into their team and group as if he’d been there all along.

And it had been  _ fun _ . 

Atsumu hadn't had many friends. Fans, for sure, who screamed his name at every game, and teammates that tolerated him because he was damn good at volleyball yeah. But not  _ friends _ . Osmau hadn’t been wrong saying that his strong personality was a deterrent to a lot of people, their classmates included.

So Suna, with his sharp tongue and piercing eyes and foxy grin had been a very welcome change of pace. Suddenly, there was someone to tag along on their trips to the convenience store after school for snacks before practice, or who would join in on impromptu study sessions that had very little studying but a whole lot of napping or chatting to them. There was someone who was ready at the drop of a hat to tease the twins at the slightest flub, who could give as good as he could take it.

And so, of course, Atsumu with his Too Much gene that his brother just didn’t seem to have, had to go and fuck it up.

He’d been 15 years old with all the confidence that only a teenage boy can seem to possess. There was nothing and on one that could stop him, not a single force in the world that could prevent his rise to the top or sate his endless hunger. He wanted more out of life, expected and demanded it with an entitlement that was staggering to begin to comprehend.

He’d been 15 and in love with the concept of love and all the pretty storybook elements that went with it. He would confess his feelings and have his one true love accept and then the both of them would be swept up in a rush of euphoria and begin their whirlwind romance.

Suna, who fit in so perfectly to his life, had been easy to fall in love with. Suna, who understood how to deal with Atsumu and his whole spectrum of moods, who was oddly loyal despite his apathetic nature, and who could match Atsumu both mentally and physically on the court. What had started off as a friendship had, somewhere along the lines, mutated into a want, some sort of repressed desire that Atsumu hadn’t ever contemplated before but wasn’t about to let stop him.

And what Atsumu wanted, he took.

At least, that had been his plan until he’d walked into his and Osamu’s bedroom to find Suna and his brother sucking face. They’d jumped apart the second he’d opened the door, but he’d already caught them red handed. To this day, he can’t forget the look of fear that had flashed across Osamu’s face before he’d been able to mask it, or the way that Suna suddenly couldn’t meet his eye.

“Oh,” he’d managed to choke out dumbly. “Didn’t realize you two were, um, busy.” Taken aback and, for once at a loss for words, he’d fled the room, leaving his brother to call after him. He’d wandered aimlessly for a while before exhaustion and sore feet drove him to collapse in a park a little bit away from his house. He’d sat on the swing that had been comically too small for him, letting his feet drag back and forth in the dirt and wood chips while he’d tried to shut off his brain.

He only looked up when another pair of sneakers had entered his field of vision, nudging his own. “Hey,” Osamu had said softly. When he glanced up to look at him, his brother’s face had been carefully guarded. “Can I join ya?” And as much as his heart was breaking right now, he couldn’t find it in him to be nasty to his brother.

Atsumu had grunted his consent and Osamu settled down in the swing next to his.

"Ya okay?"

Atsumu had laughed, though there wasn't a drop of humor in it. "Why are ya asking me that? Should I be the one to say that to you?" He'd twisted on the swing to glance at his brother out of the corner of his eye. 

Osamu was staring at the ground, drawing small circles in the dirt. "Well then ask me dumbass." His voice doesn't waver, but that doesn't mean that Atsumu hadn't heard the uncertainty in it. 

"'Samu." Osamu's shoulders had squared up, like he was bracing for something, but he still hadn't looked up. "'Samu," Atsumu had repeated, with a bit more force. When his brother finally did meet his eyes, he'd offered a tiny grin that was soft on the edges. "Sunarin? Really? I thought he had more taste than that."

The lingering tension that his brother had been holding on to melted out of him; Atsumu watched as his shoulders slumped in relief leaving him bent over on the swing a little bit. "Fuck you," Osamu had returned on instinct, but he had also been grinning at his brother. "I'm a goddamn delight, 'specially compared to you."

"Firm disagree, but whatever." Atsumu had aimed a kick at his brother's feet, missing and then almost falling on his ass off the swing in the process. They'd sat in silence for a while, an unspoken agreement between them before emotions swelled up and overwhelmed Atsumu again. "How long?"

He'd shot for casual but had missed the mark, given the way Osamu had crinkled his eyes in concern. "Since our last game. Rin kissed me in the locker room; you'd already gone ahead home."

"Are you serious?!" Raw surprise both at that tidbit of information and the affection nickname had overwhelmed his own sadness. "It's been like almost two months since that game, y'all have been keepin' yer relationship a secret that long from me?!"

"To be fair," Osamu had said warily. "It's not hard to keep things from you 'Tsumu. You walk around with yer head so far up yer ass everyday it's a miracle you don't crash into more walls."

"I hate ya. You are actually the worst, there is not a single damn appelin' thing about ya. Sunarin is the blind one, not me." Atsumu had shoved himself up and off of the swing, brushing dirt that didn't exist off his pants. "I think you owe me for all the secret keepin' and bullyin' I've experienced today."

Osamu, having recognized the apology and peace offering for what it was, had stood up as well. "Fine, but yer stayin' outta the kitchen while I cook."

"Like I'd want to be in there anyway," he'd snorted. They'd started walking back home, side by side, letting their shoulders bump every so often when another thought occured to Atsumu. "Is Sunarin gonna be joining us for dinner?"

"Naw." His brother's voice was soft again. "He went home after..."

"After I crashed the party?" Atsumu teased gently, relieved that Osamu didn't seem to take offense to it.

"Yep." He'd let the 'p' pop and it echoed in the street around them. "Figured that would be for the best until I talked to ya."

"Gotta ask," Atsumu had stopped walking abruptly. Osamu had also stopped, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "He really what ya want 'Samu? Yer happy with him and everything?"

It had taken several long moments for his twin to answer, and when he did, the reply was so quiet that Atsumu had to strain to hear it. "Yeah. Yeah, he's what I want 'Tsumu."

Atsumu had taken a deep breath in then and there in the middle of the street. Osamu seemed like he may have wanted to say something, but Atsumu held out a hand to stop him. "Okay." He'd breathed out, letting go of Suna. "Okay, if yer sure. I'll trust you."

Selfish and immature as he was, even Atsumu knew that someone his brother loved was off limits. He'd steal Osamu's lunch and his allowance and his clothes, but Suna was an entirely different matter.

"Hey." Osamu stared at him, lower lip caught between his teeth. Atsumu wanted to tell him to knock it off, that he was already on the verge of tears as it was, but stayed quiet. "Are ya really okay with it all?"

To his credit, he hadn't even hesitated with his response. "Yes, 'Samu. I'm really really okay with it." A pause as he struggled to control his voice and then "I'm happy for y'all. Sunarin's a good guy, though it's gonna be DISGUSTING watching you guys hang all over each other." Another pause, this one more thoughtful, before he'd casually tacked on "And I'll kick his ass if he breaks yer heart, fair warning to the both of you."

Osamu had laughed and even though Atsumu's own heart was aching, it was nice to see his brother so relieved and happy (not that he'd ever say that out loud). "Thanks for the shovel talk, I'll be sure to pass it along."

They hadn't said anything more on the subject that night, but the next day when Suna met them at Atsumu had bounded forward before his brother could stop him and socked him in the shoulder.

"What the hell?" It was rare to hear Suna yelp, rarer still to see him flustered in any capacity. Atsumu used the distraction to take one last full over look of Suna, with his sharp eyes and teasing smile, commit them to memory, and then let them go. 

"That," he'd informed the taller boy, with his nose in the air. "Was for thinkin' that I wasn't mature enough to handle yer relationship with my brother and hidin' it from me for two whole months." He'd pulled his lips back in a dangerous grin, showing off his teeth. "And there'll be plenty more ta come if ya do anything stupid to him."

"Wow, wasn't ready for the shovel talk from you of all people." Suna, having deduced that Atsumu wasn't at all angry with the situation, had jumped right back into the same teasing pattern he always had with him.

"That's what I said." Osamu was doing a poor job of hiding his amusement as he slid up next to Suna, brushing close. Atsumu pointedly ignored the way their pinkies linked together.

To the relief of all three of them, things had eased back into normalcy right after that exchange. The only difference was that Atsumu now took care not to brush against Suna, to make sure that his touches didn't linger like they had before. And it took a while, but eventually the hurt and jealousy faded away, and Atsumu let the feelings go but he didn’t forget them.

At age 15, he’d learned that love wasn’t some magical cure to the worries and woes of the world.

Love was a nasty, ugly little thing. Love made smart people stupid, made they act in ways that were completly foolish and pointless. It delighted in crushing the unsuspecting and woefully unprepared. Love was not for the faint of heart or even for the brave of heart--it was for the masochistic, for the people dumb enough to buy into it and think that the pain and suffering that went with it would have a payoff in the end.

So he’d sworn off of it. 

He’d barely had friends before Suna, but that was fine. He didn’t need them. Didn’t need friends or lovers or anything other than the cheers on the volleyball court to drive him. Cheers or jeers, either one of those was fine by him. There was no time to waste on something as ugly as love.

He’d made that vow to himself years ago. So why now has it come back to bite him in the ass? Why, for the first time since his crush on Suna, does he find himself  _ wanting  _ yet again affection from another person? When had he gotten so careless that he let Kita slip through the cracks in his wall and his layers of cynicism, through the gaps in his rib, right through to his heart?

Not like it mattered. He’d learned his lesson the first time around. It didn’t really matter when he’d let Kita so close, or how much he liked having the older boy’s attention on him. This time, he’d be the one to end it before he could get hurt. Cut out the affection cleanly, forget it existed, and define careful boundaries with him in the future. Nothing was going to come of it. 

Of that much, at least, he was going to make sure.

*

“Okay,” Suna tells him, marking his place in his textbook before shoving it to the side and glaring at Atsumu. “I don’t know WHAT has crawled up your ass and died jackass, but you better get over it real quick before I throttle you with my bare hands.”

“Don’t know whatcha mean.” Atsumu grumbles, rolling his pen back and forth on the table.

They’re in the library, in one of the study rooms that students can rent out, to start planning out their English project which is due in a few weeks. They’re supposed to be analyzing a myth, explaining the story to the class briefly, and then noting it’s importance. The one they’ve been saddled with is the myth of Persephone and Hades which is fine--it’s not overly long and pretty straightforward, when they’d skimmed over it.

Which is what he’d been doing when Suna had so rudely interrupted him.

“You’ve been acting all cagey and even more high maintenance than usual since we got back from the lake house. It’s starting to piss me off.”

“Maybe yer just bein’ overly sensitive,” Atsumu suggests. The flat look he gets in response tells him Suna isn’t amused. “I don’t know what to tell ya Sunarin, I don’t think I’ve been acting any different.” That’s a lie; he knows damn well that he’s been on edge ever since he’s come to terms with his feelings for his roommate. Finishing out the trip to the lake house had been a CHORE. He’d made every effort to be as far away from Kita as he could without being outright rude, opting to stick as close to Komori and Sakusa as he could without the later physically punching him. Osamu had tried to ask him about it, but he’d taken to avoiding his brother as well. If Osamu had noticed, then Suna was also 100% aware of the issue. More pressingly, so was Kita, who had started looking at Atsumu with the faintest traces of confusion and hurt and yeah, maybe it all sucked majorly and he still didn’t know what he was going to DO per say about getting rid of his feelings, but he sure as shit didn’t want to talk about them either.

Suna stares at him, green eyes flickering all over him. Atsumu feels very much like he’s being analyzed from head to toe, which he probably is. Whatever conclusion Suna comes to, he must decide it’s not worth pressing the issue because he pulls his text book back over and opens it again. “I’m going to read it out loud and then we’ll find a way to summarize it in like a paragraph or two, sound good?”

“Go for it.” Atsumu spaces out as Suna reads the myth out loud. He gets the general gist of it; some girl catches the god of the Underworld’s eye and he kidnaps her (‘Yikes’ Atsumu interjects. ‘Not the way to woo someone’). Her mother is some super important deity that controls the seasons and is so depressed over her daughter's abduction that the weather gets all outta whack. At first, it had all been a mess and both Persephone and her mom had begged Hades to let her go. And then, magically as myths do, Persephone had fallen in love with Hades and True Love had allowed them to reach a compromise; half the year Persphone would go above ground and live with her mom, and the other half she’d live with her lover in the Underworld. Somehow, that was supposed to impact the seasons or some shit like that---Atsumu had stopped listening around the part where the myth had explained that it was painful for the lovers to be separated, and Hades always waited for her to come back. 

He thinks back to his conversation on the pier with Kita, about how memories should be treasured and valued and he scowls.

“That’s dumb.”

Suna quirks a brow at him. “Go on?”

He waves his hand in the direction of the text. “The myth about Persphone or whatever. It’s dumb.” Suna’s still staring at him, so he feels the need to elaborate. “She gets stuck having to go back and forth all because of some dumb mistake she made once. Like people don’t change over time.” He snorts and shakes his head in disgust. “Seems dumb to get hung up on past mistakes and then mope about how unfair it all is.”

“She doesn’t mope though?” Suna tilts his head in confusion. “Well, she does at first yeah, but then Perseophone and Hades really grow to love each other? And it becomes less about mourning the past and more about like, treasuring the time they spend together and finding a balance, and remembering each other when they aren’t together.”

“That’s also dumb.” Atsumu says.

“I’ll bite. Explain?”

“Hades,” Atsumu says eloquently, “is a little bitch for doin’ nothing but pouting when she’s above ground.”

“Harsh.” Suna says. “Cut the guy some slack, he’s stuck living basically in Hell and his girlfriend only gets to be with him for half of the year. He’s got it rough.”

“I just don’t see what’s all that special about thinking about how things used to be or remembering someone who ain’t there.” He scribbles into his notebook roughly, making the paper crinkle and tear where he’s pressing the nub of his pen harshly into it. “The past or the future ain’t gonna do shit for ya if ya can’t handle the present. Hades is dumb for pining for someone who he knows is always gonna come back, and both of them spend their whole life looking either ahead at what  _ will  _ happen or behind at what  _ already  _ happened to land them in the whole mess, and do fuck all in the present when it matters the most.”

“Yeah, but I imagine that even  _ you _ get that having the love of your life have to leave you for months at a time could be something that makes you just a tiny bit sad.” If sarcasm was a weapon, Atsumu would’ve been dead twenty times over in the course of his friendship with Suna.

“That’s my  _ point,  _ Sunarin!” Atsumu props his elbows up on the table, rolling his pen between his fingers. “Why’s he gotta get all bent outta shape about missing her or remembering his time with her when he  _ knows  _ she’s just gonna come back in a few months? His memories of her ain’t doin’ nothing but causing him grief, so why bother to remember them at all?”

“This may shock you,” Suna says. “But some people really like to remember the time they spend with people they love.”

Atsumu thinks of meeting Kita this semester, of long study sessions in the quiet of the history room, of the screaming cicadas and hot chocolate on his grannies porch, on a fox tattooed against pale skin and grits his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. Then he thinks about 15 year old crushes and heartbreak and the fear on his brother’s face years ago and he just feels sick.

“Well that,” he says bluntly, “is just fuckin’ dumb as well.”

“Gee, the person who ends up marrying you is going to have to be a saint.” Suna tells him dryly. “What has love ever done to you?”

There’s some deity in the world that is personally targeting Atsumu by having  _ Suna _ of all people ask him that question. He takes a brief mental moment to apologize to them and ask if they could give a guy a damn break maybe.

“Maybe I just don’t wanna be like you and ‘Samu, FaceTimin’ every night like y’all don’t text daily. God forbid I wanna be a little bit independent from my partner and not just glued to their hip all the damn time.”

The words aren’t even fully out of his mouth and he already regrets them. Suna’s eyes widen a fraction and Atsumu flinches. He hadn’t meant to snap at his friend; really, Osamu and Suna are the grossest, most lovey dovey couple he’s ever had the misfortune to be around. On the one hand, he really is pleased that his brother and best friend are so happy. On the other hand, he’s also kinda resolved that he’s going to die alone with at least 3 cats and his recent revelation of his feelings have left him with a far shorter tolerance than normal of them being a constant reminder of that fact.

“Alright.” Suna drags his notebook away from him, finally saving it from the wrath of his pen. He doesn’t sound mad, which Atsumu counts as a small blessing. “You wanna tell me exactly what all this is really about, or are you just going to continue dragging the myth to hell and back?”

Atsumu, despite everything, grins at him. It takes a moment for Suna to realize his mistake, but then he makes a noise of disgust and leans far back in his chair. “That was an accident, god DAMN it ‘Toya’s shitty sense of humor is rubbing off on me!”

“Suuuuure, whatever you say.”

“Okay, I’ll play this delusion out with you.” Suna brushes off the joke, but there’s a splash of pink coloring the tips of his ears. “ Your biggest gripe is that the whole myth is pointless because it’s based on the premise of a cycle that is both predictable as it operates on a set calendar schedule, and yet also expects readers to be sympathetic despite proof existing that their sadness and separation aren’t ever permanent factors. You also think it’s dumb that they’re obsessing over factors they can’t change and getting hung up on things in the past instead of just dealing with the present, which you claim is much more important in the long run.”

“Lookit you Sunarin, speaking like a real English major.”

“Shut up.” He clears his throat. “Consider this though.” Suna pauses, biting his lip in thought as he gathers his thoughts. “You frequently meet new people throughout the course of your life, right?”

“Yeah?” Atsumu has no idea where Suna is going with this. “So?”

“And every person you meet makes you different, because you’ll never again be the person you were  _ before  _ you met them.” When Atsumu looks lost, he tries again. “Basically, you can’t ever unmeet someone, yeah? So that would mean that, for better or worse, meetings change people. The change doesn’t have to be big or meaningful, but it does happen. That seems fair so far?”

“I guess.”

“H’okay so then.” Suna takes a deep breath. “If you change every time you meet a person--like Hades changed when he met Persephone--then meaning to or not, that person has left an impact on your life. Something they’ve said or done or that you’ve seen about them has made you different than you were in the past.”

“Maybe a lil’ dramatic, but yeah, I can see what yer gettin’ at. Still don’t know what the point of this is though.”

“The point,” Suna says, “Is that I don’t think it’s about lingering in the past at all. I think the point of the myth, other than to explain the changing of the seasons, can also be to point out that those important to a person, those who impact them so deeply that the change becomes an innate part of them, can never really be forgotten because, as long as the one changed continues to exist, so do they. You never really  _ lose  _ someone who matters, as long as their impact stays with you.”

“And  _ I _ think,” Atsumu begins slowly, “That you should change yer major from Sports and Nutrition to Philosophy because hot damn Sunarin, you really went for it there.”

“I’m being serious you asshole!” Suna snaps at him. “Persephone's influence over Hades makes him soften to the point that he relents on keeping her captive forever. He lets her go because she’s made him understand that she’s not ever truly going to leave him, not when he can see her physically during the time she’s with him or remember her during the time she’s not. Basically what I’m  _ trying  _ to say,” Suna says, flinging his hands out, palms open wide. “Is that memories are intrinsically part of a person because you can’t just  _ forget  _ things or people that matter, and as long as you don’t linger in the past and let them stop you from doing things in the future, there’s nothing wrong with them.”

“Should we put that in our PowerPoint, then?”

There’s a long suffering sigh from Suna. “Why do I even try with you?”

"Sunarin." Atsumu finally sits up properly, laying his pen flat on the table. "What you said makes sense. It's not that I think yer tryin' to pull one over on me, I just don't buy into it."

"What IS it with you and your aggressive 'live in the moment' agenda?" Suna demands with a roll of his eyes. "Like, I get that you want to be in the present or whatever, but you act like you've never had a happy memory in your life that warrants being remembered."

Atsumu stares at his friend long and hard for a moment. "Memories," he finally says. "Tie you down to the past, like ya said. How are you ever gonna look to the future and try to do better if you just wanna fixate on the things you've already done? I just don’t think people do a good enough job of that is all."

Suna hums as he turns that over in his mind. "I guess that makes some sense." He relents. "I do still maintain that you're just a tad bit dramatic about the whole matter though."

"Fair enough." Atsumu says. "Ain't like I'm not aware that I'm in the minority with that opinion."

"And yet," Suna says with his foxy grin, "You still insist in acting like a stuck up bitch when someone bucks you on that opinion." Atsumu grunts in response, unwilling to admit that he's the one currently causing a conflict with his prior worldview this time around.

Damn Kita Shinsuke and damn Atsumu for being so weak.

Unfortunately, Suna has an uncanny knack that rivals Osamu's in being able to see through Atsumu's bullshit. "Oh." He bolts upright in his chair, eyes flashing. "Oh, or it actually is a personal matter this time around."

"Butt out, Sunarin." Atsumu warns.

"What, and go back to putting together a PowerPoint that no one's gonna pay attention to anyway?" Suna shakes his head. "Uh-uh, spill it or I'll tell Kita that you ditched History class the other day."

"It was a REVIEW day!" Atsumu cries, momentarily forgetting where he is. The both of them cast a quick glance out the glass wall to the rest of the library, but it seems his outburst has gone unheard. "And Kita-san isn’t the boss of me!”

“Really now?” Suna raises a brow. “Because you sure seem to want to impress him at every single given opportunity. I’m pretty sure you text him more than you do me now. Or maybe not, you were acting really weird around him at the lake house. You two have a falling out or something?” 

Atsumu  _ knows  _ that Suna is just teasing, saying things to press his buttons because that’s just what their friendship  _ is.  _ But boy, that doesn’t stop that sentence from rankling Atsumu deeply.

“Suna.” Atsumu presses his hands hard into his thighs, takes a deep breath, and looks at the other. “I’m serious. I don’t wanna talk about it. So I’ll say it again: drop it.” Suna is the last person on the planet he wants to talk relationship troubles with. Yeah, the younger boy is his best friend and one of the few people that can tolerate large doses of him, but even that doesn’t grant him a free pass to pry. 

They stare at each other, air tense. Suna is the first to relent. “Okay.” He says. He holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I won’t push anymore. You can tell me what’s wrong whenever you’re ready.”

“Great. Good. Just fuckin’ peachy.” Atsumu leans back in his chair and scrubs his face with his hands hard. “Now, what the hell are we putting on this PowerPoint?”

*

The PowerPoint takes them the better part of the afternoon to put together, and it’s late by the time they part to head back to their respective rooms. Atsumu is tired and cranky by the time he’s shutting the door behind him. He collapses onto his bed face first, groaning loudly into his pillow.

At least Kita isn’t in currently. Atusmu isn’t in the mood to navigate the verifiable minefield that simple conversations with his roommate have suddenly become. He’s spent months establishing and easy and comfortable relationship with the other and he’s fucked it up by going and catching Feelings. The worst part is that he  _ misses  _ it, misses being able to fling himself at Kita and have the other catch him and not have to stress over how close he is to the older boy and how strong his arms are all every other thing that he’s suddenly become hyper aware of. He misses being able to sit in a study session with Kita and not having to focus on keeping a space between them even as Kita leaned in to scribble something in Atsumu’s notebook.

Most of all, he misses the comfortable silence the two of them could have while they sat together on a bed, Kita doing his homework and Atsumu playing on his phone while leaning against the other. He doesn’t remember how that particular tradition started, but prior to the lake trip it had been an almost daily event.

Kita hasn’t said anything yet about Atsumu’s abrupt change in behavior, but it’s only a matter of time. The older boy is too sharp and too blunt to let the issue slide for much longer, and it’s a conversation that Atsumu is dreading with every fiber of his being.

He needs it all to stop. He needs to get his shit together and tamp out his feelings before he fucks up his friendship with Kita entirely, which really is his whole problem. This would all be so much easier if he could just cut Kita out of his life but he refuses. If he can be friends with Suna, he can be friends with Kita, and love can go fuck itself on a cactus with no lube.

He’s always been so very selfish.

He’s exhausted from thinking in circles and getting nowhere, exhausted from tiptoeing around Kita in every interaction, exhausted from practice and school work and life in general. And his bed is so warm and simple, which is a welcome change to everything else going on right now.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing he’s aware of is a hand on his shoulder shaking him gently. “ ‘m up,” he slurs, blinking sleep from his eyes. “I’m awake, I swear.”

“I believe you.” Kita’s hand is still on his shoulder and he’s staring at Atsumu with a bit of apprehension. “But I figured ya hadn’t eaten dinner yet, so I just wanted ta be sure.”

The hand on his shoulder burns, and he both wants to press closer to it and shove it off at once. He settles for a compromise of rolling away, letting Kita’s hand slide off him in the process. “Thanks.” Atsumu slips off of his bed, taking care to move around his roommate, heading towards the bathroom.

When he comes back out, he’s hoping that Kita will have busied himself doing homework at his desk. He’s nowhere near lucky enough for that; instead, the older boy is sitting on Atsumu’s bed, legs swinging idly with a book in his lap. He glances up when Atsumu re-enters the room, placing a bookmark in his book before shutting it and placing it neatly to the side.

Oh. They’re doing this, right here right now. Okay, sure why the fuck not. Not quite the cosmic sign he’d wanted, but whatever. Thanks universe.

“Y’alls game is coming up soon, right? At the end of next week?” It’s an innocent question, but everything to do with Kita has Atsumu on edge recently, and his afternoon with Suna hasn’t helped. Add to that the fact that Kita, who doesn’t seem like he’s going to move at all from Atsumu’s bed anytime soon, ready to tackle the awkwardness head on, and he knows he’s in trouble.

“It’s this Friday, yeah” He’s careful to keep his voice as neutral as possible. He’s hoping that Kita will let it drop with just that simple answer but, of course, he doesn’t.

"I have a group meeting for a project at 5:30 that day, but that shouldn't be a problem.” Kita pauses to give Atsumu a chance to speak but he has nothing to say. “Do ya have a recommendation about where the best seat is?"

This is his chance. It’s now or never. Make a clean break, put it all out in the open right now as fast as possible, like ripping a bandage off. He squeezes his fist tight to brace and speaks.

"I've been thinkin'." He's trying so hard to plan out what to say, but it's just not in his nature not to shove his foot in his mouth when he talks. He excels at brutal honesty, not pretty words. "Maybe you shouldn't come to the game after all Kita-san." He can see the exact moment his sentence registers because Kita freezes, his right foot sticking out mid-swing.

That should be his first warning sign, but in for a penny in for a pound, too late to go back now. He presses onward like a bull in a china shop. “I’m sure that you’ve got more important stuff to do than watch my game.”

“I thought,” Kita says slowly. “That ya wanted me to come to one of yer games.” It’s not quite a question but not quite a statement either. It’s true though, one way or the other. He wanted Kita to come to one of his games. He  _ still wants _ Kita to come, to see him where he shines the brightest and he understands now that it’s because just once he wants Kita to see him the way that Atsumu always sees him.

But, since he’s working on getting over all that, there’s really not a need for Kita to come. Hell, Atsumu will probably be able to focus better if he isn’t there. He shrugs and busies himself with rummaging through his backpack at his desk, just so he doesn’t have to face the other. “Figured that it’d just be a waste of time. Volleyball isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and if you ain’t familiar with the rules, it’ll be hard to follow.”

“I know the rules.” Kita says matter of factly. “Kinda had to, since I played all through high school.”

“I---what?”

Kita blinks at him with those yellow eyes of his. “I played volleyball. Did I not tell ya that before?”

He hadn't, actually. It makes some sense--Kita’s muscles can’t have just poofed into existence, they had to have come from somewhere. Before he can stop himself, Atsumu is asking, “What position?”

“Wing spiker.” Kita’s lips twitch. “But I was average at best, I gotta say.”

“I never knew!” Shock overrides the mission Atsumu had been on. “How’ve we spent practically a whole semester living together and that never came up?”

“I imagine it’s ‘cause ya were too busy asking me about my tattoo and other things.” Kita’s relaxed a bit, leaning back on his hands. “Bet ya would’ve gotten around to it eventually.” 

“Kita-san!” Atsumu whines at the teasing, before he catches himself.

This is dangerous. This is so, so dangerous because it’s so damn easy to get along with Kita. The older boy is the only one Atsumu’s ever met who makes him want to be better, to prove himself for reasons other than getting the world to love him. When Kita’s around, Atsumu doesn’t give a damn what the world thinks---just what Kita does. And he’s so scared because he knows only how to live for himself, doesn’t know the first damn thing about how real relationships work because his usual process of making a friend is to haze them; act his worst and if they stick around, maybe he’ll be nice once in a blue moon. People love him or hate him and that’s fine because what do they matter, except that’s the rub, Kita matters  _ SO  _ much.

He collapses into his desk chair, too tired to support himself. “I can’t do this anymore,” he mumbles, clutching the edge of his desk right now. He should just say ‘I can’t be around you anymore Kita-san, real sorry that I’m a mess but I’ll get over it, I swear’ but he can’t speak past the lump in his throat. 

In one swift movement, Kita has hopped from his bed and is kneeling in front of him. “Atsumu.” For the first time in his memory, Kita looks downright upset. “Wontcha just talk ta me?” He shakes his head, but Kita digs his heels in. “Please.” Pale hands cover his own, easing them out of the death grip they have. “You’ve been outta sorts since we got back from break, but I can’t help ya if ya won’t tell me what the problem is.”

There’s a lot of pity in Kita’s voice, and it’s what finally tips him over the edge. “Don’t you dare.” Kita blinks in surprise, hands loosening on Atsumu’s at the abrupt hostility in his voice. “Don't you  _ dare  _ pity me, you have NO idea what I’m thinkin’ or goin’ through. I don’t want yer pity!”

“It ain’t pity!” Kita snaps back, and if Atsumu wasn’t so mad himself he may actually have cowered. Honestly, he’d been convinced that Kita wasn’t able to speak in anything other than a monotone. “Golly, I don’t know why it’s so shocking ta ya that I’m worried ‘bout ya!”

_ Because I’m ME and you’re YOU!  _ Atsumu wants to shout back. And therein is the crux of the issue. Kita is his polar opposite in every way, from his structured life and simple belief in the best of the world and his insistence that the past memories make a person strong. They are incompatible at their very cores, with fundamentally different views of the world. Wildly, Atsumu spares a thought to wonder what Kita’s view of love is before he pushes that aside as well.

He shoves himself up out of his chair, knocking Kita backwards. “Maybe,” he says coldly. “I don’t need ya to mother-hen me. Maybe I’m sick of people treatin’ me like I ain’t able to make decisions on my own and take care of myself.”

“Yer bein’ unfair and ya know it.” Kita’s still on the floor staring up at him, frustration clear in his features. “And the least ya owe me is why ya suddenly don’t want me ta come to yer game.”

“Because I don’t want ya there!” He doesn’t mean to shout, but everything that he’s been bottling up for the past few days has finally hit it’s breaking point and is erupting out of him. “I don’t want you coming because ya pity the poor little freshman who couldn’t pass math on his own! I don’t want ya staring at me like I need to be babied because I’ll fall apart if I’m left on my own!”

Kita’s eyes are wide with shock, but he’s on a roll now and the words won’t stop. “Maybe I’m just sick of bein’ around ya!” He snaps his jaw shut, trying to stop that proclamation, but it’s out of his mouth already.

Once, when they’d been at a volleyball youth camp, Osamu had plopped down next to him a lunch break with an eye roll and a sigh. ‘Geez ‘Tsumu,’ he’d said. ‘Do ya hafta phrase everything the worst way ya possibly can? It’s like ya  _ want  _ people to hate ya.’ At the time, he’d vehemently denied doing such a thing, taking a swipe at Osamu for even suggesting such a thing. Now, as he watches Kita flinch back, he thinks he gets what his twin meant.

“What the  _ hell  _ is going on?” Both of their heads whip up to stare at Sakusa, who has his head poking through the joint bathroom, surveying the mess in front of him. “I can hear the both of you from my room.”

Kita hesitates to answer, so Atsumu does it for him. “I was just leavin’,” he says. He marches towards their door, yanking it open and ducking out. The last thing he sees before he slams it shut is Sakua’s dark eyes glinting at him and Kita on the floor, looking up at him with genuine hurt in his eyes.

So much for not fucking everything up, he thinks.

*

Atsumu realizes shortly after bolting out of his own dorm room that he doesn’t have a plan on where to go from there. Honestly, he’s just kind of lucky that he never took his wallet and his phone out of his pockets after getting back from the library, because he thinks he may actually die of embarrassment if he has to go back in after what he’s just said to Kita.

What he’s sure of is that he doesn’t want to hang around in case Kita shakes off his surprise and tries to go hunt him down. He heads down three flights of stairs and steps outside his building, into the evening. The sun has almost fully set and it’s cool thankfully, but Atsumu also doesn’t fancy sleeping outside.

His stomach chooses that moment to growl, reminding him that he also hasn’t eaten since that afternoon. That is the easiest of his problems though. He heads off towards the convenience store on campus and buys himself a premade sandwich. It’s kind of dry but edible and Atsumu can’t afford to be choosy.

There’s a row of outdoor swings near the campus store, and he sits down on one to munch on his sad dinner while he figures out his game plan. Going back to his own room is absolutely out of the question; his stomach roils at the thought and, since he doesn’t want to see ham and swiss come right back up, he shoves it away quickly. Sleeping on one of the swings also isn’t super viable. Campus police will have his head if they catch him and with his recent luck it’s not a risk he’s willing to take. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he has to psyche himself up to pull it from his pockets and see who's calling. “Hey Sunarin, now’s not a great time actually---”

“No shit Sherlock. You want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Suna cuts him off and it’s the closest to anger he’s heard the other in a long, long time.

“What happened?” Atsumu says, and he’s  _ tired _ . It must be clear in his voice, because Suna’s anger has lessened a little bit when he answers that question.

“Kita just came by my room. Seemed to think that you may be with us, and he looked real worried about you. When I told him no and asked if you were in trouble or something, he told me that you just blew up on him, told him not to come to your game---the one you BEGGED him to come to, mind you--and then just stormed out of your room. And then Sakusa texted ‘Toya asking him to let him know if you dropped by.”

“Ah. That.”

“Yeah,” Suna echoes. “THAT.”

“I don’t know what ya want me to say. Yeah, that happened.” As did several other things, but Atsumu isn’t willing to reopen that wound just yet. “Yeah, I’m not in the room. And yeah,” he says, as he hears Suna take in a breath to speak. “I’ve fucked up pretty bad this time Sunarin. I---I don’t know that I can fix it.” His voice catches on the last word and he blinks his eyes closed hard to stop himself from crying.

There’s silence on the other end of the line, and for a second he’s sure Suna’s hung up on him. Then, “Where are you now, you idiot?”

“Umm. Near the campus store?”

Suna sighs and then turns away from the phone to speak to someone, probably Komori. “Okay,” he says back into the phone. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to walk your sorry ass back to the dorms and you can stay with me and ‘Toya tonight, no questions asked. And then. In the morning? Miya Atsumu, you have a WORLD of explaining to do, fuck telling me when you’re ready.”

“Sunarin.” Atsumu says weakly. “What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Not nearly enough.” Suna sounds fondly exasperated, and there’s a hint of worry in his voice he isn’t doing so well at hiding. “Now get over here.” The line clicks dead.

He pushes himself up off the swing and begins the trek back to the dorms, heading toward Suna and Komori’s room. Komori is the one to actually open the door, biting his lip in worry. There’s an air mattress already spread out on the floor between their beds, and Atsumu is temporarily overcome with a rush of affection for his friends. He collapses onto it, curling into a tight ball and tugging the spare blanket on it over him.

“Wanna talk about it?” Komori asks quietly. “Promise I won’t say anything to Kiyoomi.” Suna shoots him a look, since Atsumu was promised no questions asked, but he’s too drained to care.

Kita’s hurt face flashes in his mind again and his stomach churns. His nails dig into his palms hard enough to leave crescent moon cuts in the calloused flesh and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“No. I really don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this and the next chapter are the ones I'm the most nervous about. The big conversation between Suna and Atsumu about the myth was something I spent literal hours on, writing, editing, and reading it over until my eyes crossed because I was so worried about it not making sense or coming off as pretentious. Add to that that I was trying to be realistic about Atsumu's behavior and viewpoint I hope it all makes sense and that everyone is still acting in character for the most part!


	6. nightmares (and comfort)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FULL disclosure, there were many liberties taken with the prompt for today by which I mean nightmares are mentioned in one single throwaway line because I had to 'end' it here for the next chapter to be something a little bit more unique. So the core 'story' is done but there's still one day of the week and one prompt left, and I wanted to do something special with it. I also cheated by merging the two separate prompts together because it makes more sense that way I feel.

“I’m staging an intervention.” The voice is so familiar that Atsumu trips over himself; he misses his serve by a wide margin and stumbles to a halt as the volleyball bounces on the floor and then rolls away.

“How the hell are you even here right now?” Astumu is pretty sure that Osamu never learned how to magically teleport from place to place, but he was also pretty sure that his brother was supposed to be at his own school a good half hour away just a few seconds ago, so he’s keeping his options open.

“ ‘Taro got me, of course.” Osamu bends to pick up the volleyball by his feet. He tosses it into the air a few times experimentally before he adjusts his stance and tosses it up, sets it to Atsumu. “Called me a few days ago and asked if I’d be able to come by for a few days since you were havin’ a time.”

Years of instinct have Atsumu moving forward to receive the ball, knocking it back up and towards his brother. “Suna needs to learn to mind his own damn business.”

Osmau’s movements haven’t dulled, despite him not actively playing volleyball since the semester had started for them, barring their impromptu game of water volleyball at the lake. He rallies it back to Atsumu, a brow raised. “Pretty sure it became his business when ya started beggin’ to hide out in his room to keep away from Kita as much as ya could.”

Out of spite, Atsumu turns his next rally of the ball into a vicious spike that he slams down with as much force as he can muster. Osamu has to dive to even try to receive it, and still only succeeds in clipping it with his wrist. The ball bounces off and shoots back into the corner of the empty gym, spinning wildly. “Brat,” Osamua says, but there’s a lack of venom in his voice that would suggest any real anger. “When are ya gonna learn to deal with yer emotions instead of taking them out on others or just workin’ yerself into an exhaustion?”

Yeah, fine, maybe he’s spent every moment of freetime he’s had since his Giant Fuck Up with Kita either hiding out in Suna’s room or practicing in the gym. And maybe he hasn’t been sleeping so good since he can’t seem to close his eyes without his brain reminding him of every nasty thing he said to Kita or the look of hurt on the other’s face. It’s also possible that he’s avoiding his roommate and not answering any of his calls or texts, but Osamu doesn’t need to know that. “I ain’t doin’ either of those things, I just don’t like you.”

“Bullshit.”

Atsumu gives his brother a look at that one. “Really?” The volleyball gets lobbed back at him, and he barely stops it from smashing into his face. “Startin’ to think the feelin’s mutual asshole!”

“Make no mistake,” Osamu drawls. “I don’t like you. I’m stuck with you because no one is EVER going to buy that we’re not related, but you are a real piece of work ‘Tsumu, and ya seem to do everything in yer power to reinforce the idea that yer horrible.” 

Osamu is right in this case at the VERY least and that’s what Atsumu hates the most. He’s sore as shit from practicing on his own and sleeping on an air mattress for the past few nights but that doesn’t stop him from tackling his brother, fully intending to beat his ass. What he’s failed to take into account as the two of them fall to the floor with punches and snarls, is that Osamu doesn’t have fatigue wearing down his limbs and hasn’t been losing sleep over his own incompetence as a functioning member of society. He reasons that’s why he ends up being pinned to the ground with his brother shaking his shoulders roughly.

“Alright asshole!” Osamu shoves him back against the ground with little consideration to the bruises he’s going to leave. “I tried the nice way. It clearly didn’t work, so now I’m gonna talk and yer gonna listen.” Atsumu would argue the point, but his twins knees are currently digging into his ribs and forcing the air out of his lungs, so he doesn’t get the chance. “You are gonna explain to me in FULL detail what’s got your panties in a twist this time around. And no, I don’t want the same bullshit story ya feed Rin, we both know that ain’t even the half of it---ya’ve been having nightmares, ya know that?”

No, he hadn’t actually. He’s been waking up feeling like shit, but had attributed that to sleeping on an air mattress that wasn’t intended to be the full time bed of a tall and well built athlete. 

Atsumu thinks back to the first morning he’d woken up after being granted sanctuary in Suna and Komori’s room. He’d come to to voices having an intense whisper debate over how they were going to deal with him; Komori had been in favor of a much more gentle approach than Suna had been, he recalled. He’d sat up with groan and been aware of two sets of eyes snapping over to him.

In the end, despite his promise to fess up to Suna, he’d still only been able to manage half truths. Yes, obviously something was upsetting him. Yes, Kita had gotten in the crossfire of it all. Yeah, he’d been more mad at himself than Kita when he’d shouted at the other, but when he didn't he blatantly ignore his own flaws and emotions, sue him Sunarin. He’d chalked it up to being stressed out over school and the upcoming game and trying to behave for Kita’s sake. Komori had nodded along in sympathy but Suna had stared at him with sharp green eyes. 

He hadn’t said anything though, so Atsumu had thought he was still in the clear. Apparently not, since he’d stayed quite about the nightmares Atsumu was apparently having, and Osamu is still glaring at him.

“Suna,” Atsusu hisses, “doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. I told him what happened, if he doesn’t like it, well, it ain’t his problem now is it?”

“Rin,” Osamu snarls at him “my boyfriend and yer best friend I’ll remind you, drove an hour out of his way to pick me up because he knew that one, I was worried about ya---though I can’t imagine why I bother---and two, ya clearly weren’t gonna talk to him about the problem, so he didn’t have much choice. God forbid he try to help ya though, ya’ve made it clear how ya feel about that!”

A ringing silence follows that accusation, and the gym feels eerie so late at night and dead quiet. They’re both breathing harshly, and Atsumu hates that the one person he can’t lie to in all this world is the one to corner him. He’s sleep deprived, he’s sore, and he just doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Osamu’s eyes widen and for a moment, Atsumu has no clue why. Then he feels a tear slide down his cheek and realizes that he’s crying. His brother’s grip on him loosens, and he takes the opportunity to shove him off. Osamu puts up no resistance and settles on the floor of the gym next to his brother. Atsumu jackknifes up and turns away from the other, scrubbing at his eyes furiously.

He’s jolted forward as something leans against him. “‘Tsumu,” Osamu says softly. “Ya still gonna sit here and tell me nothin’s wrong with ya?”

Atsumu stays quiet, but Osamu presses on gently. “Because the last time I saw ya cry for real was when I toldja in junior year that I was gonna quit volleyball. And this is a real cry not yer usual ‘I stubbed my toe on the edge of my bed and am bein’ a baby’ cry.”

“I don’t do that.” Atsumu protests on principle, his voice thick as he tries not to sob. 

Osamu hums. “Okay,” he agrees. “But then how are ya gonna explain what yer doin’ right now then?”

“Ya wouldn’t get it,” Atsumu whispers, shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes. His tears just won’t stop now. 

Osamu leans back more, letting his head knock into the back of his brother’s gently. “Try me.”

“No,” he chokes out, and this time he can’t hide the tiny sob that follows. “No, ya don’t understand. You and Sunarin won’t get it, you’ll think I’m bein’ dumb and--”

“I think yer dumb already,” Osamu interrupts him. “So really you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Another hiccuping sob escapes Atsumu. “Fuck you,” he rasps out. “Fuck you and yer relationship with Suna, the two of ya are so in love it’s sickening, neither of ya could ever understand what I’m feelin’.”

“Who said anything about bein’ in love?” Osamu’s trying to keep up, Atsumu can tell, but he sounds clueless. “Is that what all this is about?”

“No! Yes? I--” Atsumu shoves his head between his knees, curling in on himself. “I don’t know ‘Samu!”

“Okay,” His brother says, taking a deep breath in. “Okay, so ya have a crush on someone? Is that what I’m supposed to be gettin’ from this?”

“I don’t love anyone!” It comes out with more force than he’s intended, but it can only sound so threatening while he’s got snot dripping from his nose. “I don’t!”

“What’s a crush got to do with love? And who are ya tryin’ to convince with that, you or me?” When Atsumu doesn’t respond to that, Osamu has his answer. “I’m already regrettin’ asking this already,” his brother starts, which is how he knows it’s going to be a question he won’t like at all, “But what on god’s green earth is so wrong about bein’ in love? Far as I can remember, ya ain’t ever had yer heart broken. Hell, ya aint’ even had a relationship that lasted long enough to be meaningful.” He pauses, maybe to see if Atsumu can offer him a valid excuse, but he’d rather die than admit to his brother about his ill-fated crush on Suna so he stays quiet. “So why are ya so touchy ‘bout it? Relationships are a normal part of life, ya dumbass.”

His lower lip is wobbling and his eyes burn with his tears but he still forces himself to say “There ain’t anything nice about love.” He thinks back to their conversation on the swingset, how his brother had stared at him that night, and everything since then. “I’m glad you and Sunarin are happy, really, but it just ain’t for me. I don’t buy into that mushy bullshit, it’s all fake, and I’m not gonna sit around waitin’ for someone to hurt me.” 

“Why’s hurtin’ the only option?” Osamu glances back, he can feel the other shift against him but doesn’t look up himself. “Ya can’t honestly believe that. ‘Tsumu,” an elbow to his back that also gets ignored. “Honestly, that would mean that one day Rin and I would break up. Do ya think that’s gonna happen?”

“I’ll kill Sunarin if it does,” he mumbles. This time, when Osamu elbows him again, it’s much less of a jab and a lot more like he’s curling back against his brother to show his appreciation of that declaration. 

“My money’s on Rin in that case,” his brother tells him, because they have to keep up some appearances at least. “But I’ll promise ya that relationships aren’t out to getcha. I’ll tell ya from experience that with the right person, they can be pretty amazin.”

“Maybe for you. That just ain’t the case with me”

“Well, I always knew ya were dumb, but this is a whole new level of stupidy even from you.”

He’s so taken aback by the irritation and frustration in his brother’s voice that his tears stop, even though he still lets out the occasional hiccup or shaky breath. “You are not that special that the world has decided that you can’t have a functioning relationship. That’s all on you ‘Tsumu, and if it bothers ya so much then own up to yer behavior and fix it.”

“And end up a wreck because I wore my heart on my sleeve for someone who stabbed me in the back in the end? I’ll pass, thanks.”

Osamu sighs. “Mind tellin’ me why ya think a person is weak because they rely on others? You can trust others ‘Tsumu, the world isn’t out to get you.”

He sniffles, scrubbing at his cheeks again. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Let me see if I can put this in a way that even yer peanut brain can understand. Volleyball is a team sport, yeah?”

“Yeah.” As if Osamu didn’t know that, hadn’t played the sport himself for 7 years with his brother.

“And ya can’t expect one person on the team to do everything, yeah? Everyone’s got different skills on the court, and the team has to work together to draw out everyone’s full potential.” He can’t see his brother's face, but he knows he’s wearing a toothy grin as he adds “Isn’t that yer job as the setter?”

“Well, yeah. I was probably the only reason yer sorry ass was half as good at the sport as you were.”

“Ignoring that for now. But, I don’t know if ya’ve realized it or not, but ya rely on yer teammates every single time ya play a game.” He pauses to let the truth of that sink in. “And it’s not the only time ya trust someone, ‘Tsumu. Ya rely on Suna to drive y’all where ya need to go. Ya rely on Sakusa to remind you when a test is comin’ up that you’ve totally forgotten about. Ya relied on Kita to get yer sorry ass through yer math midterms.” Another pause, longer this time before his brother adds, so quiet he almost can’t hear, “And ya relied that I knew what I wanted well enough in life to see me off to culinary school. Bitchin’ and whinin’ the whole time, yeah, but you did in the end.”

He wants to protest, wants to point out that none of those things even begin to compare to his current crisis because it’s not like he wants to date his teammates, but he also can’t refute that he does trust his team. He trusts his friends and his brother and, in spite of everything, he trusts Kita because his roommate has been nothing but a solid and reassuring presence this entire semester as he tried to figure his life out. Even after Atsumu has done a spectacular job of acting a fool in front of him.

“Atsumu.” Osamu’s voice is still soft. “Ya are aware that you can’t build a relationship of any kind on lies, yeah? Not one that ya want to last anyhow. Ya gotta trust that person, the same way ya trust any of us. Though, since I’m startin’ to see what’s going on, don’t think that’s gonna be an issue.”

It’s like he can read his brother's thoughts. “And what does that mean?”

“It means,” Osamu says patiently, “That ya need to be honest and own the fact that you have a crush on Kita and go talk to him about it like a real person instead of the toad you are.”

He freezes. He starts to say “I don’t know what yer talkin about” but Osamu shoves back hard against him, spending him sprawling. “ ‘Tsumu, shut the fuck up. I’ve known ya yer whole life, think I can pick out when ya have a crush on someone. And I’ve NEVER seen ya act the way ya do around Kita with anyone else. I just didn’t think you were gonna have a whole crisis over yer feelin’s.”

“Even if you are right---and I’m not sayin’ ya are--what’s the point yer tryin’ to make here?” Atsumu pushes himself up on his hands and turns to stare at his brother’s back.

“My point ya absolute fuckhole, is that Kita has already seen ya at yer highs and lows, and he’s still stuck with yer sorry ass. If he really hated ya, he’s the kinda guy to make that clear from the get go. And,” he says loudly as Atsumu opens his mouth. “If ya don’t believe me on that, then please explain why he’s still textin’ ya after you treated him like shit.”

Atsumu flinches backwards, tucking his head further between his knees. “I guess Sunarin’s been snoopin on my phone, huh?”

“He’s been _worried,”_ Osamu says, and Atsumu’s guilt only deepens.

“....’Samu?” He nudges his foot against the small of his back until his twin turns to face him. “I messed up really badly.” He admits softly, staring at the ground. “With Kita-san, with Sunarin, with a whole lot in general.” He’s expecting his twin to agree with him, but he stays quiet and the silence is almost overbearing. “I don’t even know how ta begin to fix it.”

Osamu’s foot stretches into his view, and he kicks at Atsumu’s leg. “That much,” his brother says with a tiny smile, “Is real clear.” Osamu gathers himself and stands up, extending a hand down. Atsumu takes it and allows himself to be yanked to his feet. “But let’s see if we can’t give it a shot anyhow. Starting,” he says, leveling Atsumu with a hard look. “With Rin and how you’ve been behavin’ towards him.”

Atsumu wipes his face hoping he looks at least vaguely presentable. “Okay,” he agrees meekly. “Okay, I’ll apologize.”

His brother snorts and claps him on the shoulder. “Like I was gonna give ya a choice on that one.” He jerks his head in the direction of the net and volleyballs still scattered round the gym. “Now go clean up while I text Rin and see if he’s willing to drive us to get food. I’m starving.”

*

“You know,” Suna says, glancing back at Atsumu as he digs in his pocket for his dorm key. “Times like these are EXACTLY why I call you a disaster gay.”

“I’m eating yer fries for that comment.” To emphasize his point, Atsumu rustles the bag of McDonald’s he’s holding, making a show about shoving his hand into it. It’s not at all food that his coach would approve of, especially before a big game, but he’s exhausted emotionally and mentally and figures he deserves this.

“The hell you will.” Suna finally shoves the door open, leading the way in. “I will drag your sorry ass to Kita so fast it’ll make your head spin. And besides,” he says with a grin. “That’s my apology meal from you, you don’t get the right to renege on it.”

“What’s this about apology food?” Komori perks up from where he’s lying on his bed. In answer, Atsumu holds up the two bags full of greasy goodness.

“ ‘Tsumu’s a dumbass who can’t process basic feelings and y’all got caught in the crossfire.” Osamu explains, snatching one of the bags from him. “So he bought all of us food in apology. And he’s got somethin’ to tell ya.” He settles himself on half of the air mattress that has been Atsumu’s home, pawing through the food and dividing it out. Suna sits on his own bed, letting his legs dangle off the side and bracket Osamu, who leans back into him.

Komori is still staring at him. “Um.” He says lamely, then clears his throat. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a jerk lately and that I’ve been takin’ it out on you guys. And I’m sorry that I’ve been crashin’ in yer dorm room for the last few days and I’m sorry that I’ve been keepin’ some stuff from ya.” He shuffles awkwardly, offering the other bag of food to the brunette.

The other boy accepts it from him with a bright smile. “Apology---and apology food---accepted!” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a set of fries and a burger before lobbing the bag over to Suna, who snatches it out of the air. “Now are we just eating at this little shindig or are we finally gonna sort things out.”

“Sorting things out,” Atsumu mumbles. He plops down with no grace next to his brother and elbows him to the side to take a burger of his own.

“Oh good. Because it’s getting really difficult to keep Kiyoomi from actively hunting you down.”

Atsumu chokes on his bite of food. “What’s Omi-kun mad at me for?” God, is there anyone at t his point who _isn’t_ mad at him?

Komori takes a dainty bite of a fry before he answers. “Well, you’ve upset Kita, and Ushijima is a close friend of his so he’s not pleased about the whole thing, and Ushijima is Kiyoomi’s roommate and crush, so when he’s upset Kiyoomi’s upset as well.” He licks some salt off his fingers and shrugs. “Whole thing is kinda like a really bad soap opera honestly. And as FUN as it’s been, I’m starting to stress about it, so some resolution would be nice.”

“You’re telling me.” Suna side-eyes Atsumu, who has the decency to flinch. “But to catch you up to speed, since I got filled in on the drive to get food, our theory was totally right and Atsumu, at the ripe age of 18, still doesn’t know how to handle a crush without resorting to the pigtail pulling on the playground method that doesn’t work. He also still hasn’t kicked his nasty habit of taking bad moods out on others, so he’s a disaster all the way around tragically.”

“Hah!” Komori shouts. “Kiyoomi owes me money, I _told_ him you were having a crisis over Kita at the lake house and he didn’t believe me!”

For the second time, Atsumu chokes on his food. “I’m sorry,” he wheezes out around a cough. “Did everyone know what was goin’ on this whole time I was sufferin’ and y’all just let me pretend I was so good at hidin’ things?”

“You’re not that hard to figure out.” Suna tells him. Osmau nods in agreement next to him. “And the common denominator of everything you’ve blown up over in the past week happens to be Kita, so it was just the logical conclusion. I knew that the whole fit you threw over the myth wasn’t just arbitrary. Not to mention, you call me and ‘Samu gross about PDA, but you clearly have no clue how much you hung off of Kita at every given opportunity.” 

“Not everyone though, be fair Rin!” Komroi pipes in. “I’m pretty sure Kita is the only one left in the dark, somehow. Or,” he tilts his head thoughtfully, “I think it’s more he doesn’t want to presume your feelings, so he’s kept quiet about the whole thing to not make it awkward.” That doesn’t particularly reassure Atsumu.

“Yer fuckin’ kidding me.” When the others give him blank stares, he slips down the bed to sprawl flat on the air mattress. “Oh my god, he’s known this whole time?!”

“Sounds like it.” Osamu has lost all sympathy for his brother now that he isn’t a snotty, crying mess on the floor and he’s ruthless. “Only question is why he kept lettin’ ya leech offa him the whole time knowing what was goin’ on in yer peanut brain.”

“Got me on that one.” Komori says with a hint of apology. “He’s a really good guy and we’re friends but not super close or anything. And he’s got one hell of a poker face to boot. I could ask Kiyoomi to ask Ushijima though? I know the two of them have been good friends since last year, Ushijima probably could ask Kita?”

“Ushijima,” Atsumu says, panicking. “Wouldn’t know subtlety and tact if they danced naked in fronta him. The LAST thing I need is him going up to Kita-san outright and going ‘Hey, I know yer still confused and hurt as to why yer roommate exploded on you, but do ya maybe think he’s cute? That why ya put up with his shit this whole time?’”

Suna cackles wildly behind him. “No, but that would be funny as hell, can we outvote Atsumu on this one?”

“Be nice Rin, we’re supposed to be helping officially now. We reward honest behavior, blah blah blah, positive conditioning.”

“Alright Psych major, calm down over there.” Suna lets out a final snort. “But hey, it’s off topic but Atsumu would make a FANTASTIC thesis for you to analyze down the line.”

“I’ll keep that in mind!” Komori shoves another fry in his mouth, chews, and swallows. “But let’s try to focus again. So Ushijimia is out, which means that the only way we’re going to get anywhere is to ask Kita ourselves. By which I mean: Atsumu, you need to go talk to Kita and sort all this out.”

“That’s what I told him,” Osamu says. He’s already scarfed down his own burger and is staring at his brother’s, who hurries to take another bite to assert his claim to the food. Osamu doesn’t pout, but he’s also still staring sadly at the wrappers of his own meal. “But he’s bein’ obtuse ‘bout the whole thing.”

“Because I’m in Serious Like”--not Love, he resolutely refuses to acknowledge that, he _can’t_ acknowledge that because he’s still wrestling with the concept of love as more than an instrument of pain, “With my roommate who has had a whole semester to watch me make an ASS of myself, prime example being when I blew up on him just this past week!” Atsumu interjects with a whine. “And what, I’m just supposed ta pretend that didn’t happen and go profess my attraction to him?”

“You could start with an apology.” Suna’s voice is deadpan. “I’m starting to see that the concept of saying ‘I’m sorry’ is really baffling to you, but you’ve had practice with ‘Toya and me now, so I believe in you.”

“Okay,” Osamu says, reaching out for Atsumu’s fries. “Best case scenario?”

“Huh?” Atsumu is busy batting his brother away from his food and trying to stay calm, so he’s having a bit of trouble keeping up anymore. “Of what?”

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Of you apologizin’ and confessin’ to Kita idiot.” 

“I got this one!” Komori’s so enthusiastic that he bounces a bit on his bed as he shoots his hand into the air. “Kita accepts the apology, feels the same way that you do, and you guys do a big nasty smooch after the game and start dating!” He looks so pleased with himself that Atsumu can’t help be entertained, even if it’s at his own expense. “Tell me I got it right?”

Suna nods from where he’s sitting. “I’ll agree to that. You two make up, we all are free, we celebrate by never letting Atsumu live it down for the rest of his life.”

“And how about an ending that _isn’t_ like a damn fairytale?” Atsumu tries to sound irritated but lands somewhere more along the lines of tender uncertainty if the others' faces are anything to go by.

Osamu is the one to brave answering that. “Well,” he says slowly. “I can think of two different kinds of worst case scenario’s. Option one is that he doesn’t give ya the time of day for an apology, and ya have to spend the rest of the semester living with someone who’s perpetually pissed off at ya.” He must see the despair brewing in his brother because he’s hasty to keep speaking. “But Kita doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who lives for resentment and grudges, so that probably won’t happen.”

“And the second worst case scenario?” Atsumu can guess at what it is, but he wants to hear it out loud from someone else to confirm, just in case. It’s not like he’s been stellar at reading emotional situations this whole month.

“Kita forgives ya but he likes ya just as a friend.” Osamu says it so simply, like the thought of rejection isn’t what made Atsumu cower from love in the first place. “And it’ll suck, yeah. It’s never fun gettin’ rejected, but at least then y’all will stand a chance of fixing yer friendship and movin’ on.”

Atsumu isn’t sure which of those two options he hates more, but what does it matter when he hates himself the most.

“And what happens if I don’t?” Being honest sucks, because Atsumu’s brain to mouth filter has taken it as permission to blurt out his inner thoughts which he’s super not okay with. His hands ball into fists at his side and he looks down at the empty takeout bags to avoid all the stares he’s on the receiving end of suddenly.

Osamu clasps his hands together and shrugs. “Then ya won’t be the first person in the world to have a friendship end over feelings and ya won’t be the last. You’ll suffer through the rest of the semester and get a new roommate after break and bounce back like ya always do because that’s just who you _are_ ‘Tsumu. I don’t think there’s a force on this earth that can compete with yer pigheadedness.” It's a fond exasperation that colors Osamu’s tone. “And yer not the kind of person to roll over and die when things don’t go his way. So just do the same way ya do everything in life: headfirst with all the confidence of God and the idiot ya are.”

“Besides,” Komoris says. “Even if Kita shoots you down, you’ll still have us!” When Atsumu’s head shoots up to stare at him in surprise, his smile falters a bit. “I mean, unless you don’t want us?”

“Oh no.” Suna says, shaking his head. “Hell no, you don’t get to opt out of friendship after all this bullshit. I personally have spent too many years trying to make you socially acceptable to let you just cut me off now, sorry Atsumu. You’re stuck with us and us with you jackass.”

He wants to say thank you. He wants to fling himself at their feet and beg for forgiveness he’s already been granted, wants to thank them for understanding that all his selfishness isn’t meant to be a personal insult even when it comes off that way. He wants to tell them that he’ll be there for them too if they need him, that he’ll buy them meals for the next month if they damn well want because it’s the least he owes to them.

All he manages to get out is a whispered, “Okay,” and Komori’s face softens instantly. Suna’s foot moves to nudge him in the side and Osamu throws an elbow up onto his shoulder, letting most of his weight rest there as he slumps sideways onto his brother.

He thinks his point got across anyway.

“Just let me get past this game,” Atsumu begs abruptly, looking directly at his brother. Osamu blinks at him, waiting, and he presses his case. “Please ‘Samu, let me focus on this game and get through it, and then I swear, you and Sunarin can drag me kicking and screaming back to my dorm if ya gotta.” His mouth twists at the thought, but he muddles through it. “I’m here on a sports scholarship and I can’t afford to lose it.” _I can’t fuck this up to_ is what he doesn’t say, but Osamu hears it regardless.

“Fine,” his brother relents, and even Suna looks surprised by that. “You have until this evening after the game to track Kita down and fix yer mess, because _I_ will lock you out of this room myself if I have to.”

“Love ya too,” Atsumu says weakly.

“And,” Osamu continues, as if Atsumu hadn’t spoken at all. “I think to streamline the whole process, we should bring Kita along to the game with us tonight.” Atsumu starts to squawk out a protest, dislodging Osamu from his shoulder as he jerks away, but a single look from his brother has him snapping his jaw shut. “Not up fer debate fuckface. Ya asked for our help, ya got it. Ya just gotta trust us on this one.” _Easier said than done_ , he thinks, but swallows all of his protests nonetheless.

“Well then,” Suna says with a drawl, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I do believe we’ll have a third wheel tonight ‘Samu.” He claps his hands together and exchanges a look with his roommate. Komori reaches for his phone with a firm nod to himself. Atsumu has never been more impressed or afraid of the pair of them before. “Kita will be at that game tonight.” He grins at Atsumu. “Best prepare yourself loser.”

*

“Miya.”

He’s been expecting this, knew that it was inevitable since the two of them do kinda play on the same team, but it doesn't mean he hasn’t been dreading having to talk with Sakusa since Komori tipped him off the other was after his head

He forces his voice into a false cheer, schools a plastic smile onto his face, and whips around. “Heya Omi-kun!”

The locker room is almost empty, the rest of the team already dressed and out on the court, and Atsumu can’t help but despair over the fact that there won’t even be a witness if Sakusa decides to gut him then and there. There are worse ways to go, he supposes. Not many, but they exist.

“Cut the bullshit.” Sakura’s blunt personality is a blessing and a curse in this particular instance. “You have a lot of nerve to go around pretending like you haven’t made a huge mess.”

Atsumu tries to interrupt, to defend himself at least a little but Sakusa isn’t interested in letting him. “Oh believe me,” Sakusa says with a grimace. “I’d like to stay as far removed from your personal life as possible, but seeing as we share mutual friends that seems impossible. Mutual friends, may I add,” he says with a glare, “That have been very hurt and upset by your recent behavior. More pressingly, however, is that I’d like to win the game tonight, and we can’t do that if you’re going to flub every serve because you’re too busy being a drama king to focus.”

“Omi!” Atsumu finally erupts, stopping the other mid-tirade. “I’m well aware that I’ve been awful and I’m sorry, I’m REAL sorry, and I swear I’m working on it but if ya really wanna win this game tonight, I actually cannot think about it until after we win or I’ll be worse than useless out there!” He says it all in one rushed breath because he doesn't know if he’ll be allowed to speak again any time soon. He’s panting a little bit, staring at Sakusa and hoping that his suitemate will believe him just this once.

“Motoya had said something like that to me earlier but I thought he’d just misunderstood.” Sakusa says slowly, looking Atsumu up and down. “But that was the most honest I’ve heard you this whole damn semester, so maybe there really is something to it.”

“Cross my heart Omi-kun.” Atsumu runs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve made promises to several people that I’ll get my head outta my ass by tonight, just after the game. I’ll make the same one to ya, if you’d like?” He offers.

Sakusa’s eyes narrow at him and he feels like he’s being analyzed under a microscope. Whatever it is that Sakusa sees in him must be satisfactory, because he grunts and steps past Atsumu. “You had better.” Is all he says. “Now hurry up and finish dressing so that we can start warm ups.”

Atsumu does as he’s told, not willing to risk his teammates' good will anymore than it’s already stretched. He’s on autopilot as he heads out onto center court, blinking as his eyes adjust to the bright lights. The crowd is already riled up and their chatter and cheers echo into a mass of noise that bounces around the gym and surrounds him. He takes a moment, just one, to lose himself in it, letting his eyes close and the familiarity of it all steady and ground him in the present.

When he opens his eyes, his head turns instinctively to the bleachers on the right and skims so that he’s looking about a third of the way up them on the right hand side. Komori is the first person that notices him looking; the brunette jumps to his feet and waves wildly, before pointing to someone just over Atsumu’s shoulder. He glances back to see Sakusa a little bit away from him. “Think ya got a fan Omi-kun!” He calls out to the other. Sakusa squints at him in confusion and then follows where Atsumu’s pointing. He can tell the exact moment when his teammate spots his cousin because he rolls his eyes even as his hand twitches upwards in a small, barely there wave.

Atsumu would rag on his suitemate for his rare moment of softness, but he’s more preoccupied with the other members of their ragtag friend group he’s spotted. Osamu’s got his hand up--and actually may be flipping him the bird now that he looks---and Suna’s sitting next to him, an arm around his brother’s shoulder, flapping his wrist about in a lazy wave of his own. 

It’s the person next to Suna that has his undivided attention though.

Kita looks the same as always. He’s sitting neatly in the bleachers, hands folded in his lap and he’s got a sweatshirt on that looks a size too big for him with the school's mascot embroidered on it. With a jolt, Atsumu realizes that the sweater is in fact too big and it also happens to be _his_. It has to be because not only has he never seen a piece of clothing like that in Kita’s wardrobe, it would explain why it’s practically hanging off his shoulders.

He cannot think of a single reason why Kita would be wearing his clothes at a game he was more or less coerced into going to, but if he had to put money down on it, he’d chalk it up to Suna sharing a bit more than necessary to convince Kita to tag along. As if he can feel Atsumu staring at him, he glances up and his amber eyes widen as he finally notices his roommate. He’ll swear that time stops as they stare at each and Atsumu is deeply afraid that he’s not going to be to move again for the rest of the night, that his team is going to have to yank him off the court and toss him aside because he’s lost all feelings in his legs.

And then Kita tentatively lifts a hand and waves at him. The sleeves of the sweatshirt are too long and cover half his hands; when he raises his arm to wave it slips down and the fabric ends up in a pool by his elbow. Atsumu’s heart jumps up into his throat and it’s hard to breathe let alone think anymore.

Kita’s hand starts to lower with an air of uncertainty that Atsumu realizes is due to his impression of a stone gargoyle. The thought of disappointing him _again_ is finally what spurs him into action. He flings his own arm in the air with so force he almost clocks himself in the face, bouncing up on his toes with the burst of energy. Kita’s hand moves to cover his mouth and belatedly Atsumu realizes that he’s _laughing_.

His eyes flick over to Osamu, who is staring smugly at him and he hears the ‘ _Toldja so’_ that his brother is too far away to say in person to him right now. Osamu can say whatever he damn well wants though, because Kita is _here_ wearing his _clothes_ and maybe the whole thing isn’t as hopeless as he’s been dreading.

Then the coach is shouting for all of them to circle up and he doesn’t have the luxury of thinking about Kita anymore.

It’s easy to lose himself in the game. Volleyball is a sport that demands his entire attention, and he doesn’t have time to worry about anything other than the ball flying around the court and keeping it up in the air. His arms sting with every save he makes and he relishes in the feeling of proving himself, of being able to stand under the lights and show that he’s earned his spot on this team and nothing can take it from him.

The whole team is in rare form tonight; Atsumu’s sets are things of beauty normally, and today all his spikers are responding to them with every ounce of skill they can muster up. Even when his thighs start screaming in protest at the strain as the game goes on, he doesn’t falter once. It’s a pattern of serve, receive, set, spike that he falls into that’s as familiar to him as breathing is. Dimly, a small part of him notes that it’s a good thing that his life could turn to utter shit and volleyball will never let him down.

They win because, really, there wasn’t any other option. Not with the team performing at 110%. Not with Kita watching him so intently with those amber eyes of his. He gets swept up by his teammates into a victorious roaring huddle as Sakusa slams the ball down with a nasty cut shot and earns them the last point they need in the final set, and he hollers along with them. 

He’s still tired, and sweaty, and not totally out of trouble yet, but things are looking up for the first time in what feels like forever.

*

Osamu is the one to track him down after the game.

“I’m gonna say this only once with no witnesses around,” his brother declares, tugging him into a rough embrace. “Yer a damn good player ‘Tsumu and I look forward to seein’ ya go pro one day.”

He squeezes his brother tightly, gripping hard at his shoulders. “Well,” he says. “If we’re bein’ sappy with no witness to drag us, I’m lookin’ forward to eatin’ in yer restaurant one day.”

“Gross,” Osamu says, tucking his head into Atsumu’s shoulder. His eyes are bright when he finally lets go, and Atsumu wisely chooses not to comment on it. “And don’t think just ‘cause yer playin’ nice that I’m gonna let ya off the hook.”

“I don’t.” He claps his hands together and draws in a big breath. “H’okay, let’s do this shit!” He glances at his brother, who is discreetly swiping at his eyes. “Would help if ya pointed me in the right direction, ‘Samu.”

“We told Kita to wait where we’d been sittin’.” Osamu says gruffly, letting his hands drop. “Try and keep yer shit together this time around, huh ‘Tsumu?”

“I’ll do my best.” If he says it with enough confidence, maybe he can stop the tremors that are wracking his body. He spins on his heel and heads off towards the bleachers, but Osamu calls out to him before he gets far.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu?” His brother offers him a rare, genuine smile. “Good luck.”

He cannot get his voice to work well enough to respond to that past his nerves, so he nods jerkily and continues his way to the bleachers. He doesn’t focus on anything but putting one foot in front of the other, step by step, because the only way left to him is forward at this point. He’s so concentrated on watching his feet and navigating on autopilot that he bumps into someone at the foot of the bleachers.

“Sorry,” he says absentmindedly, arms shooting out reflexively to steady the person he’s collided with.

Abruptly, he realizes a few things about the person:

  1. They have really broad shoulders. The muscles are firm under Atsumu’s grip and he takes a split second to appreciate them.
  2. They’re a tad shorter than he is, so he has to glance down when he looks at them to speak.
  3. Their shirt is very soft and a lot loose as the fabric of it slips into bunches in his hands when he’d grabbed the other.
  4. It’s Kita.



The sense of deja vu that overwhelms him in that moment is laughable. He’s not the only one to realize it either as Kita huffs a tiny laugh and says, “Well, at least I managed ta stay on my feet this time ‘round.”

“I’m sorry!” He blurts out, and he can feel his face turning red. Kita raises a brow at him.

“Fer what? This was a way more gentle collision than last time, I think yer really improving on just crashing into people Atsumu.”

“No, not for that. Well, yes for that and for running into ya just now, but not just for that!” He’s starting to ramble so he gives himself a quick shake to refocus. He also notices that he’s still holding onto Kita’s shoulders and lets go, taking a half a step back. The uncertainty is back on Kita’s face but Atsumu holds a hand up to stop him. “Please, just lemme get through this Kita-san and then ya can say and do whatever ya want to me.” Kita blinks at him but doesn’t move away and stays quiet, so he bites the bullet and goes for it.

“I’m really, really, REALLY sorry!” He winces at how loud his voice is and tries to reign it in as he goes on. “I said some really shitty things to ya and I didn’t----it wasn’t yer fault. And you were right, and I was outta shape about somethin’ but i didn’t want to tell ya because it was about you. But I still shouldn’t have yelled at ya like that, it was way outta line and it shouldn’t have taken me this long to apologize to ya, but uh.” He stalls briefly, embarrassment temporarily overwhelming him. “I don’t do so well when it comes to sorting out my feelings. It still don’t excuse my behavior, but it takes me a while to stop overreacting and to admit when I’ve messed up on somethin’. And I did overreact and you didn’t deserve it and I’m…...I’m sorry.” He finishes quietly, and then ducks his head in shame.

“Atsumu.” Kita’s voice is firm but he doesn’t sound angry, so he chances a glance upwards. It doesn’t do him any good since his roommates standard blank expression is in place. “I’m not mad at ya.”

“Yer not?” He’d be ashamed of how much he perks up at that, but he’ll swallow a good bit of shame if Kita really isn’t upset.

“I’m not. I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt in the moment, but I know the kinda person ya are.” Kita places a hand on his shoulder, shaking it free of the sleeve of the (Atsumu’s) sweater to do so. “And lord knows ya have a flair for drama, so once I thought about it I realized that it probably was just an overreaction and I knew ya didn’t mean it. Still,” he adds with a tiny frown. “Ya couldn’ve answered my texts instead of just disappearin’ from the face of the earth. I had no idea where ya went that first night and I was worried sick about ya.”

“Sorry,” Atsumu repeats, because what else can he say? They stand there, Atsumu staring bashfully down at the other and Kita blinking up at him.

“What about me had ya so upset?”

“Hmm?” He’d been so pleased that Kita wasn’t furious with him, he’d kind of forgotten about the other part he’d promised to fess up to. “Oh. That.”

“Yeah.” Kita echoes. “That.” 

“Um.” Promising to be honest, as it turns out, had been the easy part. Forcing his words and…...FEELINGS out were proving to be a bitch. “I uh. Um.” 

“Did I say or do somethin’ that upset ya?”

“No!” He denies forcefully. “No, it wasn’t yer fault at all, Kita-san! I just uh. It wasn’t--I didn’t--I realized that umm.” He’s struggling to finish a single thought and, even though he’s teased Suna about it in the past, he respects the younger boy's bravery when he’d confessed his attraction to Osamu. This is, hands down, the most nerve wracking thing Atsumu’s done in his entire life.

“Atsumu.” This time, there’s actually a trace of what sounds like amusement in the older boy’s voice. “Atsumu, lemme ask ya somethin’ if ya don’t mind.”

“What is it, Kita-san?”

“This shirt I’m wearing.” Atsumu’s shirt, yes, he sees it. The dark maroon of the fabric contrasts wonderfully with Kita’s pale skin, which he can see a lot of right this very moment. “You know who it belongs to, yeah?”

“....yes.” He admits hesitantly. He thinks it’s a tad arrogant to say ‘mine’ so he leaves that bit out.

Kita hums, his eyes bright. “Good. So my next question for ya is: why do ya think I’m wearing it?” Kita’s other arm has slipped up to rest on Atsumu’s other shoulder and he leans in slightly, letting the taller boy support his weight.

It also makes Atsumu’s brain short circuit, which is a problem because he’s really trying to figure out where Kita is going with this line of questioning. “.....for school spirit?”

Kita laughs.

It’s a nice laugh, Atsumu thinks dazedly. Bright and clear and warm, like a ray of sunlight shining through a cloud, and Kita’s smile, holy shit it’s beautiful. Kita’s head presses into Atsumu's chest and he automatically adjusts his hold on the other, hands moving down to hold onto Kita’s hips. This close and with their height difference, the top of Kita’s head skims just under Atsumu’s chin, soft hairs tickling him. He still has that same pleasantly earthy smell Atsumu had gotten a whiff of their first meeting and those broad shoulders are shaking with mirth against him.

This was not a reaction he’d expected from the older boy, so he’s forced to stand there dumbly as Kita’s amusement calms down enough for him to speak. When his laughter stops, he tilts his head back to look up at Atsumu but doesn’t pull away like he’d been expecting.

“Golly, Atsumu.” He shakes his head, eyes crinkling as that megawatt smile is turned directly on him. “Ya really are kinda hopeless, ain’tcha?”

“That’s not very nice, Kita-san.” He says weakly. He’s given up trying to make sense of this conversation, relishing in the moment instead.

“Well, neither is yellin’ at someone because ya have a crush on them.” Kita says pointedly.

Atsumu is convinced that he's about to have a heart attack. He freezes, heart thumping so loudly against his ribcage that it’s nothing short of a miracle that Kita can’t feel it pressed as close as he is. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, but is incapable of making a single sound. Kita watches him for a bit before taking pity and speaking. “Suna mighta given me a hint or two. Somethin’ about bein’ insurance since he was sure ya were gonna freeze.”

Suna is a bastard and Atsumu hopes that he’ll go bald in his old age, the fox faced _asshole._

“Kita-san,” he squeaks out, but then his throat catches again.

“Do you think,” Kita asks calmly, interrupting his internal panic. “That I would’ve agreed to tutor ya if I wasn’t fond of ya? That I’d let ya hang all over me and ask all sorts of personal questions with a fuss if I didn’t like ya? That I’d take ya home to meet my granny if ya were the kind of person I couldn’t stand? Or,” Kita’s eyes are bright with mischief, which is such an alien look on him but not a bad one, “That’d I’d wear yer shirt to yer game that ya had _begged_ me to come to, if the feelin’ wasn’t mutual?”

“Look, I already said that---what?” Atsumu, on reflex, had begun defending his honor only to be taken aback by that last tidbit. 

“I said,” Kita says, the very embodiment of patience as he shifts a bit in Atsumu’s arms. “That I like ya too, Atsumu.”

Oh.

Oh. OH.

The small smiles only he got to see. The casual personal admissions. The nights spent huddled together on each other’s beds, enjoying the other’s presence. Tan fingers splayed out against a tattoo of a fox, a steady heartbeat under his palm. Hot chocolate on the porch in the warm summer evening, and a head resting on his shoulder comfortably. Atsumu’s _fucking_ sweater hanging off of Kita’s shoulders.

It all makes a lot more sense now.

“Oh.” Atsumu says oh so intelligently.

Kita hums again, content to let Atsumu’s brain play catch up, which it does rapidly.

“Well SHIT.” He breathes out, and a broad grin splits his face. “I guess it was best case scenario after all!” He doesn’t even bother to hide the giddiness in his voice, choosing instead to crush Kita against him in a bone tight hug.

“I got no idea what yer talkin’ about.” Kita says into his ear, nuzzling into the crook of Atsumu’s neck.

“Nothin’ important,” he reassures the other. “For real this time.”

“Okay.” Kita says simply. He stands there, leaning heavily against Atsumu, who feels like he could do a whole set of diving drills around the court at this moment. “But ya will tell me in the future when things aren’t okay, right?”

A bit of steel has found it’s way into Kita’s voice and it makes Atsumu snap to attention. “I wasn’t fibbin’ when I toldja that I’m bad with feelings. And I haven’t been in a real relationship like….ever.” He admits, finally able to look Kita in the eyes. “But I promise I’m gonna try. I’m gonna try to be honest and talk to ya from now on, I swear it. So just….” it’s a lot to ask and he knows it, but he’s also sure he knows what Kita’s answer will be. “Will ya be patient with me?”

“As long as yer tryin’.” Kita smiles again and he’s really going to have to stop doing that for Atsumu’s health. He’s missed the other so much, and being able to touch freely like this, to finally allow himself to feel things is a goddamn drug all it’s own.

“Kita-san.” Atsumu’s grip on the smaller boy's waist tightens. He bends slightly, letting their noses brush, eyes flickering over Kita’s face. “I’m thinkin’ that I should kiss ya now, if ya don’t mind.”

“I reckon ya should,” Kita says casually and well, who is Atsumu to refuse?

*

They have an audience waiting for them when they get back to their dorm.

“Kiyoomi let us in,” Komori explains as Atsumu gapes at them all.

“Omi-kun you TRAITOR!” He shouts, lunging at his teammate. He gets stopped by a pillow to the face, thrown with deadly accuracy from Sakusa.

“Fuck you,” the other says bluntly. “You left this suite in a state of chaos for the better part of a week because who the hell knows why, I’m allowed this one thing.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Osamu says from where he’s lounging on Atsumu’s bed. Suna is on top of him, arms folded to pillow his head on Osamu’s chest.

“Yer all the WORST.” Atsumu announces. “I’m gettin’ bullied again Shinsuke!”

He knows exactly what he’s done by using Kita’s first name and the reactions around the room to it are PRECISELY what he’d been hoping for.

“I think I speak for us all when I say: Jesus fucking Christ, thank GOD.” Suna rolls off of Osamu and flings his hands up into the air dramatically. “This has been the longest week of my life and I’m so glad it’s over with a happy ending, because I thought I was GOING to have to kill you Atsumu.”

Sakusa makes a noise that may be disgust, may also be agreement, it’s hard to tell. “Shame you didn’t get that far.”

“So mean!!!” Atsumu whines, more for show than anything.

“Fellas,” Kita says mildly, stepping so that he’s right next to Atsumu. “Y’all know he’s sensitive. Why do ya gotta wind him up like this?”

“Because he deserves it,” Suna and Sakusa say in unison, and exchange appreciative looks. Atsumu sticks his tongue out at them even as Kita takes his arm and guides him over to his own bed. He follows Kita up onto it and doesn’t even hesitate before he throws out his arm and tugs the smaller boy flush against him.

“I take offense to being called a bully!” Komori protests as Osamu and Suna pretend to gag. “I’m really happy for you both and I won’t be slandered for this.”

“Yer the one good friend,” Atsumu allows, brushing his thumb idly along Kita’s exposed shoulder.

“Glad to know I’m chopped liver even though I literally gave you a place to sleep while you were hiding out.” Suna says dryly. “Next time I’m going to leave you to sleep on a park bench somewhere.”

“Ain’t gonna be no next time.” God willing, there won’t be. His friends love him, yeah, but if he pulls a stunt like this again his life will very much be in danger. “I’m a changed man now, I know better.”

“Bull.” Suna flops back down onto Osamu, who grunts at the added weight.

“Sunarin,” Atsumu starts, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I’ve never done nothin’ wrong a day in my life and ya know it.” There’s a cacophony of protests from the others, and even Kita snorts softly into Atsumu’s side.

“You really do just say whatever is on your mind, don’t you Miya, and no god has the decency to stop you?” Sakusa is looking at him like he’s a particularly unpleasant bug he’s been tasked with squashing.

Atsumu laughs, loud and bright and carefree for the first time in what feels like an eternity. “I sure do, Omi-kun!” The arm he has wrapped around Kita squeezes him closer and he takes absolute delight in the way the older boy allows himself to press against Atsumu. Feeling bold, he leans down to press a quick kiss to the top of Kita’s head and laughs again when Komori cheers. There’s a hint of pink on Kita’s cheeks, but he doesn’t move away or protest. Instead, his hand finds its way to the top of Atsumu’s thigh and rests there lightly. It’s all new and a bit scary, but with Kita right next to him Atsumu can’t bring himself to be worried about it.

The display of affection is enough to drive Sakusa from the room, who mutters something about not signing up for this kind of nonsense. Osamu, meanwhile, grins toothily at him from across the room. “What?”

“Ya don’t get to say SHIT to me and Rin anymore about bein’ gross.” His brother says smugly.

Kita’s fingers press into his thigh, as if he knew the saucy comment that Atsumu was about to make. He relents at the touch, settling for a “Fine, whatever.” And he means it, because there are SO many other things to tease his brother about, and if that’s the exchange on getting to kiss and hold Kita close at ANY time, he’ll make that trade a thousand times over.

(That night, after Suna, Osamu, and Komori have left, Atsumu is left to hover in the middle of their room as Kita settles down into his bed. He shifts his weight from foot to foot uncertainly; the concept of a relationship is entirely new to him and he’s unsure of what boundaries are in place and how far he’s allowed to go. He has no choice but to linger until he’s given a sign, which Kita does after letting him squirm just a bit.

“Ain’t I gonna get a goodnight kiss?” His roommate---no, his  _ boyfriend-- _ asks him sweet as pie. Atsumu might even buy into the innocent act, if Kita wasn’t still wearing his sweater like it’s the most natural thing in the world. That being said, it’s embarrassing how fast he bounds over to the other, leaning down to brush his lips lightly against Kita’s. He goes to pull back, pleased with this much, only to find that Kita’s got a grip on his arm and is keeping him close. Pale, slender fingers trace up and down his arm and Kita glances up at him shyly through his lashes.

Atsumu blinks, because he’s pretty sure he understands what’s being offered to him but holy shit can he really be so lucky? He moves slowly, just in case he’s got it wrong, leaning back down and putting his knee up on Kita’s bed. Still, the other doesn’t push him away---the opposite, actually. Kita leans back to make room for Atsumu, inviting him into his personal space. It takes a while at his glacial pace, but eventually Atsumu ends up fully on the bed with his boyfriend, who folds the sheets down and tilts his head at Atsumu in an unspoken question.

He slips under the blankets, right next to Kita, and allows the older boy to fold it back up over the both of them. He’s barely gotten himself situated before Kita is shimmying up to him, tucking himself neatly under Atsumu’s chin. His palms are pressed flat against Atsumu’s chest and he knows Kita can feel his heart jackhammering against his ribs because of this but he doesn’t say anything.

With the same slow movements he’d gotten into the bed with, Atsumu brings one arm up to pillow his head with it and snakes the other around Kita’s waist. The other lets out a sigh of satisfaction, nuzzling closer and Atsumu lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, finally able to breath.

It smells just like the bed and sheets Atsumu had wrapped himself in at Kita’s grannies house, only this time it’s even better because the source of the smell is curled up in his arms, breathing softly, and currently in the process of tangling his legs with Atsumu’s. “G’night,” Kita whispers, and his lips brush against Atsumu’s collarbone, tickling him as he speaks.

At age 15, Atsumu had lost faith in love and relationships.

At age 18, he realizes that the world is so much bigger than a small town and a first love gone wrong, and maybe there is something to trusting someone after all. That maybe it’s not a bad thing to remember, as long as memories aren’t what rules him in the present. Maybe this will work--god knows he wants it to, wants Kita like he’s never wanted someone before, not even his ill fated puppy love with Suna. And maybe it won’t. Maybe they’ll both end up heartbroken, or drift apart, or any number of things. There’s no way to know what the future holds, but Atsumu isn’t about to let that hold him down.

“Goodnight, Shinsuke,” he whispers back, pressing one last kiss to the top of his boyfriend's head before tugging him impossibly close and burrowing into the bed himself. What will be will be; he will build himself on the small, everyday things and just go from there.)

*

There’s a lot Atsumu wasn’t told (or didn’t listen to) about starting college.

He hadn’t been warned about things like fire alarms getting pulled in the middle of the night leaving you stranded outside in nothing but boxers. No one had ever mentioned that a teacher may use the wrong key to grade his test and leave him panicking over his midterm grade. There had been ZERO warning about the potential of having to deal with a partner on a project he was pretty sure performed blood rituals in private and certainly didn’t pull their weight on the project (not that he was going to call them out on that, lest he be their next sacrifice).

But he’d also never been told that he could find a group of friends who were just as confused as he was about life, but willing to stick by him. He didn’t have the slightest clue he’d end up with suitemates consisting of a high strung germaphobe with freaky wrists and a stoic Health and Fitness Major who also happened to be good enough at volleyball to play on the state team as a reserve player, and that he wouldn’t trade either of them for the world. No one had mentioned anything about long study sessions that devolved into impromptu movie nights, about trips to McDonalds at 3AM because they were too keyed up to sleep and had nothing better to do, about playing board games on the floor of dorm rooms only to have the RA’s show up and scold them when Atsumu threw a fit about losing and Suna and Komori had cackled at his misfortune.

He’d also never been warned that he could develop a huge, gross, sappy crush on his roommate—his unfairly hot, scarily observant, patient, understanding roommate that made him want to scream into his pillow at the same time he wanted to prove _desperately_ that he was cool enough to be worthy of Kita’s attention. The same roommate who’d offered to tutor Atsumu in math, who hadn’t been offended at being knocked on his ass day one, who was willing to step out of the room without a word the first time Atsumu had caved and called home to speak with his parents with tears pooling behind his eyes, only to come back with a bottle of water and a tiny candy bar that he left without a comment on Atsumu’s desk.

The one that had a tattoo of an arctic fox because they were cute, the one who loved his grannie lots and invited Atsumu over to dinner with them when he’d been sad. The roommate who let Atsumu hang all over him like a leech, who brushed his fingers through blonde hair with tenderness even as he scolded Atsumu lightly for whatever theatrics he was putting on in the moment.

The one that, somehow, had agreed to date Atsumu, that was willing to meet him in the middle and drive him to be better in everything.

So yeah, there’s a shitton of things Atsumu wasn’t ready for when he started this semester.

But he’s come out of it with some true friends, a brother on his way to becoming a kickass chef while pursuing his own dream, and a boyfriend with the patience of a saint and a fucking _beautiful_ smile that he got the privilege to be on the reciveing end of.

He’s come out of it ready to face the world.


	7. once more, with feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was the Free Day for the week and I had a couple of ideas when plotting out this fic for what to do with it. My first thought was to make it an epilogue of sorts and do a vacation round x2 where Atsumu is less of a disaster. Then I toyed with the idea of it being focused more on just the two of them and doing something where Atsumu got a tattoo of his own, one to kinda mirror Kita's because I'm weak for that and tattoos in general.
> 
> And THEN I had the galaxy brained idea to give Kita some time to shine in this fic. So what I've done is a retelling of sorts of the events from the fic from his point of view to offer some insight into what was going on on his end this whole time. The theme loosely for this chapter is ' **hindsight** '.

A tap on his shoulder startles Kita from his thoughts. He looks up to see the familiar figure of his friend before him. “Hullo Wakatoshi-kun.”

“Shinsuke.” Ushijima says with a brief nod. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Feelin’s mutual.” He hops up off the wall he’d been sitting on, brushing his pants off. “Didja have a nice summer?”

“I did, thank you.” Ushijima tilts his head in an unspoken invitation to walk, and Kita falls into step beside him. “I hope yours was good as well.”

“It was. Uneventful, but it didn’t hafta be excitin’ to be nice.” Ushijima lets out a grunt of agreement and a companionable silence falls between the two of them. Kita likes that about Ushijima; the other boy doesn’t have to chatter needlessly for the sake of filing silence. He’s content to just exist in someone else's presence, and while that makes a lot of people uncomfortable, Kita isn’t bothered by it in the slightest.

It had made their first year at university as pleasant as possible when it came to rooming, at the very least. The two of them meshed well together; both serious about their studies, both with a rigid schedule, both quiet in nature. It had also helped that their schedules had somehow miraculously lined up. They’d gotten close in no time, tagging along cemented their friendship about halfway through the year with an impromptu trip to a tattoo parlour in the most daring act either of them had ever pulled at that point in their lives.

There’s part of Kita that really regrets not being able to room with Ushijima again this year. They’d looked into it when they’d been picking their classes for this semester, but their department seemed to operate on totally opposite schedules. With so many of Ushijima’s classes running late into the night, they’d made the choice to settle for new roommates for their sophomore year. Fate, in it’s odd little way, had been gracious enough to pair them off as suitemates, which was a welcome surprise.

“Ya finished movin’ in yet?” Kita thinks to ask. Ushijima grunts again.

“I have. My roommate is a freshman-his name is Sakusa Kiyoomi.” Ushijima pauses for a moment, and Kita knows him well enough to hear the bafflement in his voice when he speaks again. “He seemed very pleased that I had a pocket handkerchief.”

Kita hums in amusement. “Maybe he just ‘ppreciates that ya ain’t a slob.” The taller boy turns that over for a moment before giving himself a shake.

“And you, Shinsuke? Have you met your roommate yet?”

“Naw.” Kita shakes his head to emphasize his statement. “I just finished movin’ all my stuff in and wanted ta go take a break. I’ve been here since dawn practically and I couldnt’ spend any more time cooped up inside.”

“Understandable.” By now, they’ve made it back over to the front of the dorm, and they stop on the curb, out of the way of other students lugging bags in and out of the building. “I’m going to go check on Sakuska and make sure he doesn’t need any help; would you like to meet up for lunch a little bit later.”

“That sounds nice.” Kita says. “Feel free ta invite yer new roommate along. I remember how jarrin’ it was my first day on campus. Figure we should try ta make him feel welcome.”

“A good idea. I will be sure to ask him.” Ushijima gives him another curt nod which he returns and heads off into the dorm himself. Kita watches him go, plotting his own next move. He should head back to his room and wait to see his new roommate. If they’re already there, he can introduce himself and maybe invite them along to lunch as well. If they’re not, he can call his grannie and let her know that he’s gotten properly settled. He also at some point, has to swing by and introduce himself to the RA of his floor, just so he knows who they are in case of emergencies.

He’s so lost in thought that he fails to notice the imminent danger he’s wandered into.

Abruptly, his vision is filled with nothing but blue sky and it takes him a few seconds to realize that he’s been knocked on his back. He can’t for the the life of him remember tripping or falling, but it all slots into place when he realizes that there’s a substantial weight pressing down on him. “‘m sorry!” The lump on him blurts out and in a moment of absurdity all Kita can fixate on is the lump has an accent not so different from his own. “Are you alright?”

“Yer crushin’ me,” he tells the lump, who hurries to roll off of him.

The lump is a boy. He’s taller than Kita, he can tell that much even sprawled out on the ground as he is. His hair is dyed a bright yellow that by all logic should look terrible but seems to work on him somehow, and he’s got expressive brown eyes that are currently watching him like he’s afraid Kita might start shouting suddenly. With the air no longer being squeezed out of him, Kita takes stock of his body and, upon determining that nothing is broken or cut, sits up.

“Um,” the stranger begins, and Kita looks at him.  “I’m really sorry ‘bout that, I was aiming for my brother and I guess…” Kita waits but the stranger doesn’t seem like he’s going to finish that sentence.

“Do ya often try to start fights with yer brother in public?” He prods.

“More than ya’d hope and less than ya think,” another voice says behind him. Kita can only assume this is the brother in question. “I’m also sorry ‘bout my idiot brother, are ya okay?”

“Fine.” Kita says because it’s the truth. Other than being mildly dazed and inconvenienced, he’s come out unscathed. He shoves himself up and off the ground, brushing pebbles and dirt off his jeans as he does. Once he’s satisfied he’s presentable again, he blinks down at his assailant and offers him a hand.

Kita hauls him to his feet easily enough. One of the benefits to helping out on his grannie’s farm is upper body strength, and he’s got the shoulders to show for it. The other boy gets his feet under him quickly, still staring at him with his lips parted slightly.

“Ya probably shouldn’t be fighting in front of the building while people are trying to move in,” he tells the stranger. He’d put money on this boy being a freshman, so he’s willing to cut them some slack; he’s really not mad about the whole thing, but that also doesn’t mean that Kita’s going to leave him unchecked to pounce on other unsuspecting souls. The tips of his ears turn pink and he ducks his head.

“Sorry,” he says again, and his brother also echoes the sentiment.

A third voice joins in now. “I’ll try to be more diligent as their minder.” A boy Kita hadn’t seen before slides off of the hood of a nearby car. “Maybe with any luck we’ll get moved in before someone has to go to the ER.”

“Best of luck with that,” Kita says, mildly entertained by the whole situation. He dips his head politely at the group of them in goodbye.  _ An interestin’ start to the semester  _ he thinks as he walks back into the dorms. Maybe he’ll see the boy around campus at some point.

*

The boy’s name is Atsumu and he learns this bit of information about thirty minutes after they ran headfirst into each other because Fate clearly has something in store for him this semester and has put them together as roommates.

When he relays this information to Ushijimia and his roommate at their lunch later that day, both look at him like he’s lost it. “You really have to room with the idiot who knocked you over?” Sakusa is nice, Kita’s decided. A little bit uptight and quirky but he’s got a good head on his shoulders and intelligent eyes that are capable of sizing up a situation in no time, with good manners to boot.

“Technically,” Kita says amiably. “We all hafta room with him, since we’re sharing a suite.”

Sakusa makes a face. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“It’s too early in the semester to feel any way about it.” Ushijima says, swallowing a bite of his sandwich. “He has had a rough start sure, but having high energy does not mean he’s a bad person.” Going by Sakusa’s grimace, Kita would put money on the fact he doesn’t agree with that assessment, but he seems to have already learned that you don’t really argue with Ushijima.

“He seems nice,” Kita defends his roommate. Atsumu is the polar opposite of Ushijima, of that much he’s sure. The younger boy is loud and chaotic, but he’s got a natural warmth and charm to him that invites a person in, makes them want to be noticed by him. 

Kita thinks it may be the reason he’s already so protective of his roommate. 

Ushijima shrugs. “You are a good judge of character, Shinsuke.” He says. “I do not believe we’ll have any troubles this semester.” He turns to Sakusa then, and says, “I know you had said you needed to pick up some of your textbooks still--I also have something to pick up from the school store. Would you like to come with me now?”

Sakusa springs up so quickly that it makes Kita’s neck crick to follow the movement. “Yes.” He says, voice strained. “That would be nice.” Ushijima spares a glance at Kita, who waves them off.

“I’m good,” he says, not missing the way that Sakua’s bright eyes take him in. “Y’all go on ahead.” He watches Ushijima get up and throw his trash out, watches Sakusa follow along right behind him looking just a bit like a love struck puppy, and has to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

They’ve both gotten lucky with their roommates this year, he supposes. Even if his doesn’t have a schoolboy crush on him.

*

Atsumu, just as he predicted, is a good roommate in the grand scheme of everything. He’s a bit on the untidy side, but does a good job of keeping his mess contained to his side of the room. He’s loud, but usually Kita can reign him in with a single glance, and he always makes sure to ask before he touches something that isn’t his.

Academically, he’s more of a disaster, but that’s just par for the course for a freshman Kita figures. He’s undecided on his major (not unusual) and he’s made the age-old mistake of taking a handful of 8 AM classes which Kita personally enjoys but also understands that he’s in the minority of that opinion. At least he doesn’t make a habit of ditching classes; he’d made a joke about it once and Kita had started at him, debating if he had any right to lecture a roommate he barely knew on the importance of hard work. In the end, Atsumu had straightened up before he said anything and hastily proclaimed that ‘I wasn’t really gonna, Kita-san, I swear!’

The one thing he does seem to have total control over in his life is his dedication to volleyball. Kita had known that Sakusa was on the team--he’d told him so at their lunch the first day--but Atsumu had been a surprise. The bruises he comes back with on his arms speak volumes about his dedication to the sport; Atsumu limps back in bone tired and mottled bruises making a patchwork pattern up and down his arms and still finds the will to fling himself down at his desk and do his homework.

Maybe it’s that dedication that makes Kita offer to tutor him.

“Really?” Atsumu is perched on his knees on his bed, staring at him with those big brown eyes. “Really, Kita-san?”

He shouldn’t. It’s not that he doesn’t have confidence in his ability as a tutor--his stellar track record with tutees speaks for itself there. But he does have a number of them he’s already getting  _ paid  _ to work with on top of his own work and personal life to manage. Add to that mess the fact that informal tutoring, especially with someone you live with can get messy and all Kita can see is a world of trouble.

But he’s already made the offer, and he’s not the kind of person to go back on his word.

“I’ll look it over and help. I ain’t gonna just solve all the problems for you.” He tells Atsumu firmly.

“That’s fine!” In the blink of an eye, Atsumu has bounded from his bed over to his desk, digging through his backpack. “I’ll take whatever I can get!” Kita tugs his own chair over to Atsumu’s desk, watching the other as he settles himself down. “Are you really good at math, Kita-san?”

Kita shrugs. “Not the best at it, but I ain’t half bad. And since stats is a gen ed course, all of us had to take it.” He pauses a moment. “Pretty sure I got a 98 in that class.” Atsumu stares. “What?”

“98 is what you call not half-bad?”

“Well, it ain’t like statistics is the hardest kind of math; I have a way harder time if ya want me to do any sort of calculus or geometry. ‘s why I only tutor stats.”

Atsumu tilts his head, eyes calculating “Yer a tutor?”

“Mmhmm. I work for the Academic Success Center on campus. Tutor stats, a couple of 100 level history courses, biology, and anthropology.”

“Well aren’t you fancy,” Atsumu whistles through his teeth. “And ain’t I lucky to have such a smart and talented roommate.”

“Flattery ain’t gonna get you anywhere,” Kita tells him, fighting down the urge to smile at the ridiculousness of the younger boy. “I’m glad to help ya out, but I expect you to put in as much effort as I would any of my tutees.”

“Deal.” Atsumu is quiet for a moment, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, which is how Kita knows he’s thinking about something. He’s not surprised at all when his roommate asks, “Hey, Kita-san?”

He makes a noncommittal noise in response, preoccupied with looking over Atsumu’s notebook. It’s much neater than he expected; Atsumu’s handwriting is a bit sloppy, but the formulas are spaced out with clear work tied to them. There’s even a few different colors used to show important bits, which Kita is impressed by.

“If I pass my first stats test, would ya come watch a game of mine?” 

Kita freezes with his fingers caught on the edge of the other’s notebook.

It’s not an odd request. It’s not an unfair request. Hell, it’s a request he’s sure that Sakusa is going to make of Ushijima at some point this semester, once he manages to tamp down his nerves a bit around the other boy. Volleyball is Atsumu’s world, that much is clear to Kita and he’s only known him for a little over a week now. And Atsumu, whose vanity could rival that of Narcissus, seems to want to show him the world that he thrives in.

Briefly, he toys with the idea that this is the younger boy's way of trying to throw his weight around. Maybe he’s hoping Kita will be star struck by amazing athletic feats and will suddenly start worshipping the ground Atsumu walks on. Then he remembers how the other hovers around him perpetually when they’re in their room together and thinks maybe not. Maybe this is Atsumu’s way of being friendly, of trying to share part of himself, not just a funny way of boasting.

“One test don’t mean much.” He finally says, fully flipping the page over. “And my schedule is pretty busy with tutoring and my own work.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Atsumu wilt and determines that this is a genuine request. Atsumu, for one reason or another, actually seriously wants him at one of his games. It’s flattering, Kita thinks, and then catches himself.

So much for flattery not getting Atsumu anywhere. He can already tell he’s going to have to walk a fine line and take care not to spoil this one of a kind force of nature he’s been paired with. “So, if yer midterm is a B+ or hig her, then I’ll come to a game. That seems fair, yeah?” He believes in hard work and he believes in practice. He’ll happily indulge Atsumu if the other can prove himself worthy. That’s fair to both of them, he thinks.

Atsumu seems to share the sentiment, if his toothy grin is anything to go by.  “Yeah! ‘s fine by me Kita-san! I’ll make ya proud and show ya that I’m a worthy tutee!”

*

On his first visit home to see grannie after the semester has gotten into full swing, he mentions Atsumu offhandedly and his grannie’s mood shifts minutely, which is enough to make the hairs on Kita’s arm stand on edge. “Oh?” She asks. “That yer new roommate Shinsuke?”

“Yes grannie.” He says, taking extra care to keep his voice neutral. He loves her with all his heart, and she’s been a parent and mentor to him ever since he lost his ma and pa, but the woman is also silk hiding steel and he’s utterly powerless against her. He also hasn’t forgotten that she’d been heartbroken last semester when he’d told her firmly but gently that he and Ushijima really were just friends.

He doesn’t know if he can take her implying that Atsumu would be a nice boy to date.

“And he’s not givin’ ya any trouble,now is he?”

“No grannie.” Which is still a bit amazing, if Kita’s being honest with himself. He’s been around Atsumu and Suna long enough now to know that his roommate says what he wants when he wants with very little regard to others in the process. Atsumu does lean more towards blunt than outright malicious, which Suna also seems to know. Privately, Kita’s thankful for that. Atsumu wields sharp words and insults just this side of too mean with deadly accuracy, though why Kita’s not sure of. What he is sure of is that the younger boy doesn’t have many close friends because of it. He’s a walking contradiction; his charm draws people to him, and then he guts them without a care in the world the second he’s displeased, and it doesn’t seem to take much to set Atsumu off.

Kita being the one exception to this rule.

He knows full well that he’s spoken to the other boy in ways that would get others their heads bitten off. At first, he’d chalked it up to being a seniority thing. Then he’d watched Atsumu tease Ushijima and, while it wasn’t the prickly comments he knows the other to be fully capable of making, there was certainly a lack of respect that one would typically have for their senior. So it’s not his age that inspires fear or respect or...whatever it is that makes Atsumu behave. 

Suna had teased them about it, asked Kita outright what his secret was on bringing Atsumu to heel with barely a word or a look most of the time. All he’d been able to do was blink at the other because he had no clue himself.

Since day one, Kita hasn’t had to resort to anything more than mild scolding to get his chaotic roommate to behave.

Atsumu’s a model tutee, which is entirely at odds with the rest of his personality. He doesn’t whine, doesn’t grouch about having to do extra practice problems on top of his homework. He listens attentively when Kita speaks and does what he’s asked without being told twice. Apparently, the promise of a volleyball game was enough to light a fire under him.

This model behavior extends to his every day interactions with Kita. Atsumu’s the first to scoot over to make room for him at a table in the cafeteria when he wanders over, happy to offer Kita the bathroom first a night to shower, and he looks downright pleased as punch when Kita doles out a compliment, something that is happening more and more frequently of late.

If Atsumu struck him as the kind of person to be remorseful for long periods of time, the odd behavior could be explained by that lingering regret of bowling him over day one but he’s not. And it’s not friend behavior, not for Atsumu who insists on calling Sakusa ‘Omi-kun’ or several variations of it because it rankles him and amsues Atsumu, who does have a soft spot for his teammate. 

The closest thing Kita has to compare it to his how Sakusa still stares at Ushijima with moon eyes when he thinks no one's watching, only that can’t be right because blatantly friendliness and respect aside, there hasn’t been a hint of anything romantic in Atsumu’s actions.

“Ya look like yer thinkin’ about somethin’ real heard, Shin-chan.” His grandmother’s voice startles him out of his own thoughts. “Wouldn’t happen to be about that handsome new roommate of yers, now would it?” She asks innocently, and Kita groans.

“Grannie,” he starts, half a plea, half a statement. Already, he deeply regrets showing her a picture of Atsumu--one taken just a few days ago of them in the common area, lounging in the sun. Kita’s an amature photographer at best, but he enjoys the hobby. It’s nice to have something to look back on and remember good times. “He’s justa friend.” And he is, strange behaviors aside.

“I didn’t say anything dear.” She says, but her eyes are bright and she’s got a big smile on her face. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to ya tellin’ me more about this friend of yers.”

He does, telling her about their tutoring deal, about how he’d literally swept Kita off his feet during their first interaction, about how he sings loudly in the shower when he’s happy (not well, he adds, and his grannie laughs) and how easy it is to talk to him, and he purposefully ignores the way the glint in her eyes only intensifies.

He’s starting to think that maybe he wasn’t as right about his situation being so different from Ushijima’s and Sakusa’s. Problem is, it’s not the freshman in this instance who may be the one with the crush.

*

The next time he visits his grannie, his mood is considerably more sour.

She picks up on it immediately, with a supernatural sense that inspires fear and respect in Kita.  _ The gods are always watching, Shinsuke  _ she’d told him when he was little. At the time, he’d asked her that, if the gods were always watching, why had they let his parents be taken from him, but she shook her head.  _ It’s not their job to interfer with Fate,  _ she’d answered, brushing his hair back. He’d grown up with the woods as his backyard and the ever shifting seas of rice fields his playground, and he’d seen things in them and in his grannies eyes that made him a firm believer in the world beyond. 

That being said, he also likes to think that he’s doing the best he can in life, so why Fate seems so particularly stuck on him he’d really like to know.

“Didja wanna talk about it?” His grannie asks him, offering a hot cup of green tea. He turns that offer over in his mind.

“I dunno that there’s much ta say,” he admits, sitting down at the kitchen table with her. “And I think that I’m the one in the wrong, but I really ain’t sure.”

“Start from the beginning then,” she suggests and he obliges. He rattles off how Atsumu had gone home to visit his family for the long weekend with no prior warning and her eyebrows pinch together.

“It’s not like I expected him ta tell me every little thing he’s doin’,” Kita says, catching sight of her expression. “I was just kinda shocked it was so outta the blue, since he normally don’t stop talkin’.” She waves her hand for him to continue. “I wasn’t tryin’ to gatekeep him or anythin, and I wasn’t tryin’ to be ugly about the situation. But he got real upset with me so I guess I didn’t do sucha good job of makin’ that clear.”

“That could be,” his grannie says thoughtfully. She takes a dainty sip of her own tea. “From what ya’ve told me about Atsumu-kun, he also happens to be pretty sensitive ‘bout others expectations of him too. I bet he didn’t like thinkin’ that ya could be mad at him, Shinsuke, and that’s why he snapped at ya.”

“But I wasn’t mad at him.” Kita blinks at her, confused.

She gives him a smile over the rim of her mug. “Well, I know that and you know that, but did Atsumu know that?”

Growing up with dead parents and an old soul, Kita has heard all his life from others that he’s difficult to read. More than one classmate has been unnerved by his default blank expression, which he doesn’t mean to have but also has little control over. He’s been called cold, robotic, freaky behind his back and he’s sensible enough not to let others hasty judgments dictate his life but he also is very much capable of feelings, thank you. Showing them, not so much, but they do exist.

And this wouldn’t be the first time someone had acted out harshly because they couldn’t get a read on him.

“I think,” he says slowly. “That ya may be right about that one grannie.”

“I usually am about these kinds of things,” she says airly and despite himself, Kita grins.

(That night, sitting on her porch with his legs dangling off the edge and a book he’s only half reading in his lap, his phone buzzes with a notification. When he swipes his thumb across the screen, he sees it’s a text from Atsumu asking if he’s still awake. He taps out a quick response in the affirmative and waits, book abandoned at his side.

The series of rambling texts he gets that culminate in an apology spark something warm and soft in his core, like a candle that’s flickering on a breezy summer night. He sends back an apology of his own, prefaced with a few texts that make his feelings more explicitly clear, and vows to himself to try to do better about being transparent with his high-strung disaster of a roommate who challenges him in the best way possible every day.)

*

“You seem very happy lately.”

The statement catches him totally off guard. “I do?” Kita lets go of the straw he’d been chewing on to stare at his friend.

Ushijima nods at him, pushing his Sports and Nutrition notebook to the side for the moment. They’re sitting in Ushijima’s room on opposite ends of his bed with stacks of notes spread between them. Midterms are coming up, which means study sessions have become the new norm for them in any spare time they can find. “You do.”

“Well.” Kita doesn’t know what to do with that observation. He takes a sip of his boba, savoring the sweet treat before he speaks again. “I’m certainly not unhappy.”

“I know. That is not you as a person.” There’s a good bit of irony that the one person that can read Kita’s every mood is the one that has the tact and sense of humor as wet paint. “But it has been more than just contentment recently. You seem to be genuinely enjoying this semester.”

“I could say the same thing about ya, Wakatoshi.” Kita, who shares Ushijima’s unfortunate fate of a resting bitch face but not that of being totally clueless on social cues, picked up very early on that it was rare for Ushijima to be more than a few feet from his own roommate when he wasn’t busy working or studying. Privately, he’s rooting for both of them. Ushijima is a good man, honest to a fault and just as loyal. He’s the type of person to judge based on an individual’s merits and personality, not on their stereotypes which Sakusa, with his odd quirks and ticks, needs. In return, Sakusa is firm in ways that his friend isn’t, much better at dealing with people even if he acts like it’s a chore to be social. It’s a good balance they have. Kita’s above joining in on the bet that Atsumu, Suna, and Komori have going on, but he’s firmly of the opinion they’ll be dating by the end of the year (Komori has his cousin pegged for sure).

“I think that would be accurate. I have had a lot to appreciate this semester.”

Kita huffs a laugh, stretching his limbs out. They pop, which is pleasant after hunching over books for so long. “Like a really good roommate for starters?”

Ushijima nods again, the gentle tease going totally over his head. “Yes, Sakusa is good company to be around. I’m very pleased he’s my roommate for this term.” He pauses and when he speaks again it’s as cautious as he’s ever heard his friend sound. “Is that not also the case with you and Atsumu?”

If Kita were a lesser man, he’d choke on his drink that he’s just dared a sip from. But, because he has standards (and basic manners that his grannie had drilled into him a day and age ago) he manages to swallow without a hitch, albeit a little harder than he normally would. “Me and Atsmu?”

“Yes. You seem to get along very well with him. Or am I mistaken?”

“No, ya ain’t wrong. Atsumu’s a good roommate.” He places his drink to the side for the time being, lest it further become a hazard to his health and breathing. “I reckon we get along well, yeah.”

“That is good.” Ushijima tells him. “You seem to enjoy being in his company, and he is certainly very fond of you.”

“Ya think?” Kita manages to get out. If even Ushijima has noticed how Atsumu lights up whenever he catches sight of Kita, it’s one heck of a reaction indeed.

“Yes. Often, when I walk into your room, he’s leaning on you or sitting on your bed. In fact, it’s starting to be rare to see you out on campus without him.” This is true. Atsumu seems to have taken it upon himself to become Kita’s personal escort on every errand he goes out to run, no matter how small. Honestly, he’s glad for the company. Atsumu has a natural ability to chatter away with minimal response needed to keep him talking. And Kita, who has always preferred to listen and watch, likes this arrangement very much, thank you.

“And you never push him off of you.” Another head tilt, and Ushijima blinks. “Why is that?”

“Hmm?” He’d been lost in thought and hadn’t caught the first bit of his friend’s sentence. “Sorry Wakatoshi, what didja say to me?”

“It’s unlike you to be so distracted.” It’s not a scold, just a statement, which is what makes being Ushijima’s friend so tricky. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t judge, he just states indisputable facts at you and you can either refute them with facts of your own or brush them off entirely.

In this case, Kita would be a big ole liar if he tries to counter the argument, so he opts for the second choice.

“Hush, you.” Kita scolds. He reaches up to fiddle with the stud in his ear, an old nervous habit that flares up every once in a while.

“Your ears are pink,” Ushijima observes with a tiny frown. “Is your earring bothering you? I have some disinfectant wipes if you need to clean it.” Kita’s flushes harder at that.

“‘m fine Wakatoshi. Just had a lot on my mind recently.” Recently in this case means about 30 seconds ago when Ushijima of all people had pointed out how touchy Atsumu was with him, but it still counts so it’s not  _ technically  _ a lie.

“Ah. In that case, maybe we should take a break for the day.”

“I think that would be a great idea.” They gather up their notes into tidy piles, and Kita scoops his stuff up into his arms, grabbing his drink only after he’s sure he’s got a good grip on them. “We’ll pick this back up later, maybe tomorrow if ya’d like?”

“Sakusa and I are studying together tomorrow, but I’m sure he won’t mind you joining us.” Actually, Kita is 100% sure that Sakusa would mind that; he won’t say anything, especially not to someone older than him, but Kita also knows in his heart that the younger boy wants to be alone with Ushijima any chance he gets.

“Don’t wanna bother y’all,” he says simply. “Think I’ll try to wrangle the rest of our little group together and keep them all on task.” Neither of them will admit it, but it’s just the tiniest bit fun to play keeper to the group of freshmen they’ve somehow ended up co-parenting. He’s not concerned about Komori, who happens to be attending university on an academic scholarship, but Suna and Atsumu will drag their feet the whole way without some prodding.

He nods his goodbye to his friend, who gives him a small wave as he passes through their shared bathroom and back into his own suite.

“Kita-san!” The door has barely closed behind him before Atsumu has lept up to greet him. “I didn’t know ya were right next door!”

“Careful.” Kita gives him a meaningful look, sparing a glance at his boba that Atsumu had almost sent flying when he bounded over.

“Sorry!” Atsumu says without a hint of remorse in his tone. He’s still hovering by the time Kita has deposited his notes on his desk, his drink on his nightstand, and has hopped up onto his bed with the latest book he’s been reading. It’s clear he’s waiting on an invitation, and Kita is a weak, weak man when it comes to those damn brown eyes. He nods at his bed and Atsumu doesn’t hesitate to leap up after him, sprawling out like he’s entitled to it. He ends up lying on top of Kita’s legs, shimmying a bit to get comfortable before finally settling down with his phone in his hand. “Were ya studyin’ with Ushijima-san?”

“I was.” Kita leans out to brush a strand of hair out of Atsumus face, who chirps his thanks at the gesture. Resolutely, he does not think about why he’s so comfortable with touching and being touched by Atsumu. He accepts the fact that he’s going to lose feeling in his legs, settles back against his pillow, and let’s Atsumu recant to him everything that had happened so far that day.

*

His phone beeps and tells him he has a message from Suna, which instantly makes Kita worry. He can count on both hands the number of times the younger boy has reached out to him directly, and most of them were about getting Atsumu to do something or respond to a message he’d been ignoring.

‘Call me,’ the text says, so he does.

Suna picks up on the second ring. “Hey Kita-san.” Suna is yet another member of their strange little group that is difficult to get a read on. He’s nowhere near Kita or Ushijima’s level, but his apathetic nature masks a sharp mind and strong will. “I figured I should warn you about what you’re going to walk back into when you get to your room.”

“Suna,” Kita says. “Please tell me nothing’s on fire.”

“I----what?” He’s caught Suna off guard. The other barks a short laugh out before sobering back up. “No, nothings on fire, no one’s bleeding or dead, the cops aren’t there.” Kita feels marginally better about this update, so he cautiously presses forward.

“That’s good. So then, what should I be worried about walkin’ back into?”

“He’s going to kill me for telling you this,” Suna says casually, not quite hiding the anxiety in his voice. “But our midterm grades were posted and uh. Well, Atsumu didn’t do so hot.”

Kita comes to a halt. “Explain,” he says, and Suna hastens to obey. It’s not just Atsumu he can inspire obedience in, after all.

“He bombed the midterm.” Suna admits to him softly. “I don’t know how badly, because he didn’t tell me, but I think it’s a C- at least, maybe worse.” Kita doesn’t say anything, so Suna keeps talking. “I know you probably aren’t but.” He cuts himself off, takes breath, goes on. “Don’t be mad at him, okay Kita-san? I’ve known that idiot for years now, and he worked his ass off to prepare for that exam. I just don’t want him to feel any worse than he already does.”

“That’s very kind of ya, Suna.” Kita’s mind is racing. “I ‘ppreciate ya tellin’ me what happened, I’m sure that woulda been awful to try to get outta Atsumu.” Suna hums in confirmation. “I’m gonna go check on him now,” he promises the younger boy, before bidding him goodbye and hanging up.

His phone is back up to his ear as he hastens back to the dorms. The person he’s calling is a little bit slower to pick up than Suna, but no less pleased to hear from him. “Hullo Shinsuke.” His grandmother greets him. “Wasn’t expectin’ ta hear from ya today.”

“Wasn’t expectin’ ta call,” he admits to her. “Grannie, I got a big favor to ask of ya.”

*

“I’m glad the poor thing is feelin’ better.” Grannie says from the kitchen where she’s puttering around. “College is tough, and it’s a terrible thing ta fail somethin’ ya worked so hard for.”

“Thank ya again for lettin’ him tag along with me on my visit,” Kita says. She laughs at that.

“Please, it was my pleasure. It’s nice havin’ company over, especially a nice young man like Atsumu-kun.” ‘Nice’ isn’t a word usually used to describe the other, but Kita chooses not to point that out. “And ya sounded so upset on the phone when ya asked me, how was I supposed ta say no to ya?”

“I sounded upset?” That’s news to Kita, who is further shocked when his grannie hums in confirmation.

“Oh, you were as upset as a toddler throwin’ a tantrum,” she says, like that isn’t mortifying to hear. “It was kinda sweet to see how worried you were ‘bout yer...friend.” Grannie, the sly old fox she is, purposely spaced out her words like that, but this is a conversation he’s not going to touch with a 20-foot pole with Atsumu sitting on the porch a stone’s throw away.

“I knew he was gonna beat himself up about all this.” Kita frowns. “But I didn’t think that I was upset about it all personally.”

“ _ I  _ think,” his gran says. “That it wasn’t Atsumu failin’ his test that you were upset about. I think that you were upset about him bein’ upset.” She hands him a piping hot mug that, when he looks into, he can see is hot chocolate.

She turns back to pour another cup full, letting him think on what she said.

It’s not unthinkable that he’d been upset when he called her, he supposes. Worried for sure, about the state Atsumu was going to be in by the time he got back. Frustrated, that despite the work and effort on both of their parts, they’d fallen short in the end. There’d been a tiny part of him that was thankful, courtesy of Suna for being a good friend, which Atsumu had in short supply. Upset hadn’t really registered on his radar, but his grannie knows him better than he knows himself, and if she says that’s how he sounded, he believes her.

Which leaves him to think about why he’d be upset over Atsumu being upset.

He knows the younger boy isn’t above throwing a hissy fit and pouting when things don’t go his way. Kita’s born witness to enough phone calls between Atsumu and his twin to know this full well. A grumpy Atsumu is one that’s a pain to deal with, even for Kita who is the unofficially Atsumu-whisperer (so dubbed by Suna and Komori). He thinks maybe it was for his own sanity that he’d been upset at the prospect of a sad Atsumu, who he was going to have to tiptoe around for a little while to be safe.

He discards that thought as quickly as it comes. Kita likes things neat and orderly and simple, but he’s nowhere near selfish enough to expect other’s emotions to suit his wants. That just isn’t how the world works.

The next logical jump, then, is that he was upset because a friend of his was upset, and it was basic human sympathy. This seems a lot more plausible, but then he thinks about if he would’ve felt the same if it had been Suna, or Sakusa, or Komori who had failed. Would he have gone through all this trouble for them, made space in his house so that they could stay over and get away from campus for a while if it hadn’t been Atsumu?

He prides himself on being honest so he has to admit: no. No, he would not have.

Which proves, for the hundredth time over this semester, Atsumu is a special case. It’s something that he can no longer deny, in the interest of being honest. And he knows damn well why.

So does his grannie, if her gentle smile is anything to go by. “Here,” she says, offering him the second mug. “For Atsumu-kun.” She doesn’t add anything else, but she doesn’t really have to; they’ve both reached the same conclusion.

Wordlessly, he stands, takes the other mug from her, and sets it down on the table next to his own. She’s confused until he steps close and wraps his arms around her in a hug, that she returns with a soft sigh. He takes a few long seconds to compose himself, ducking into his grandmother’s neck while her thin finger soothe his trembling shoulders. When his breathing evens out again and his shoulders stop shaking, he finally steps back. He scoops up the two mugs, exchanges one last look with his grannie whose gentle smile is back in place, and steps out onto the porch to see Atsumu.

*

_ The gods are always watching, Shinsuke  _ echoes in his brain as he watches Atsumu splash around in the lake like some sort of bronze god. He looks good like this, fully in his element with the sun making him glow and the water droplets rippling off well defined muscles.

Kita fully believes this, but he doesn’t know if they’re punishing him or rewarding him in this instance.

He’s leaning toward punishment though, as Atsumu swims over and drapes himself over Kita like an oversized and sopping wet accessory. He’s being tested or punished for something that he’s done in life, and he’s going to have to make a point to go to a shrine and apologize profusely for whatever it was because he’s fast approaching his limit on casual touches that seem to mean a lot more to him than they do to Atsumu.

Kita only lets Atsumu touch him, lean on him, lay on him.

Atsumu touches everyone with the kind of casualness people who feel the world is entitled to them do.

The younger boy has dreams and ambitions and the drive and sheer determination that it will take to make those dreams an actuality. Though Kita has known him only for a handful of months now, he’s sure that Atsumu is destined for greatness. He just isn’t so sure that that greatness includes him is all.

He reckons it’s his desire to test Fate and try to find the answer to that question that’s what gets him into trouble.

When Atsumu asks to see his tattoo again, the only thing that surprises Kita is how long it’s taken the other boy to bring it up again. He’s overly fond of Atsumu, but not blind to his flaws, and the younger boy has a terrible disregard for social etiquette. But he’s not ashamed of the tattoo--it had been the most impulsive decision that he and Ushijima had made all of last year, but it also felt right to do, a way to serve as a memento to such a pivotal point in their lives. The afternoon they’d spent in the tattoo parlor watching each other get worked on is one of his favorite memories from his own freshman year, and the ink on his skin reminds him of the year, of his friend, of himself in that moment. 

Atsumu, on the other hand, seems baffled by it. “Can I touch it?”

“I guess?” Kita says, and then immediately regrets that statement. “If ya really wanna.” He’s quick to add, just in case Atsumu had been joking around.

His roommate had not been joking, however, and he lifts his hand slowly like Kita’s an animal that might spook if he’s not careful. Kita’s thankful for the tight control he has on his person because otherwise, when Atsumu’s calloused fingers had brushed against his ribs, there’s no telling what sort of embarrassing noise might have come out of him. Atsumu traces the outlines of the fox first and Kita has to fight the urge to fidget. Then the younger boy places his hand flat against the tattoo, right at the base of Kita’s ribs, and he has to freeze to stop his traitorous heart from skipping a beat and giving him away.

He can see the other swallow hard and thinks about how the gods are always watching, about how he’s a firm believer in being as honest and straightforward as possible, and about how this may be a sign. Now or never, because he can’t dance around Atsumu for the rest of the semester, let alone the rest of their college careers. “Atsumu…” he starts softly. There are a million different ways to say this and a hundred things he wants to say, but he has to go about this with some delicacy since Atsumu is so sensitive.

It should be as simple as saying “I really like ya” so, of course, it’s the hardest thing to do, especially with Atsumu watching him with that insatiable hunger in his eyes.

And then a volleyball, expertly lobbed by Komori, nals Atsumu in the head and sends him sprawling and Kita blinks and the moment is gone. He curses his own cowardice and swears to himself that when they get back from their trip, he’ll be honest. He owes it to himself and to Atsumu, because he won’t be a hypocrite for preaching to the other to be honest if he expects to have payoff in life.

Except, something must happen that night because Atsumu refuses to be near him for more than a handful of minutes at a time the next morning. Or for the rest of the trip for that matter. When he pulls Osamu and Suna to the side to ask them entirely bewildered if he’d done anything wrong, the two of them share a look between themselves where Kita can see an entire conversation not meant for his ears play out. “You’re fine, Kita-san.” Suna tells him airly, though there’s a slight crease between his eyebrows that hints at some disturbance he isn’t privy to. “It’s just Atsumu being Atsumu. Give him some time, he’ll snap out of it eventually.”

And snap he does, in the most spectacular way possible, every bit as dramatic and explosive as he would expect from Miya Atsumu.

_ The gods are always watching, Shinsuke. _

They must be laughing as well.

*

During their freshman year, Kita and Ushijima had developed a system where they would talk about a problem they were having out loud, and the other would listen until they were done and then offer their opinion on the matter and what they thought the best course of action would be. Both of them had a knack to cut right down to the root of the problems they faced; they could offer a better way to study, a way to edit a paper to make their point more clear, how to go about speaking to a professor with a nasty reputation.

It had been a tried and true system, one that hadn’t failed them all last year--possibly because neither of them had ever had matters of the heart to talk about before.

“I do not understand,” Ushijima says, and Kita wishes he could be more surprised by that. “If you feel that way about Atsumu, why have you not just told him?”

“I wish it were that easy, Wakatoshi.” Kita can feel a headache coming on, and he rolls his neck in hopes of alleviating some of his stress. “But he doesn’t seem to wanna be in the same room with me anymore, let alone hear anythin’ I hafta say.” He’s actually starting to worry that his behavior at the lake house is what scared Atsumu off, and that makes his heart hurt. He can get over an ill fated crush. He can’t replace the whirlwind of a human that Atsumu is in his life, though.

“But he cannot avoid you forever.” Ushijima points out. “You two share a room. He has to have been coming back to sleep. Can you not talk to him then?”

Kita stays quiet and Ushijima blinks at him. “Shinsuke.” His friend says and then stops. A remote part of Kita is amused. Ushijima is an unflappable man, so to see him at a loss for words, even over such a serious matter, is a tad funny. “Has he really not come back since you fought?”

He shakes his head, and Ushijima blinks again. “Had me fit ta be tied that first night, since I had no idea where he ran off to. Suna texted me the next mornin’ and let me know he’d been stayin with him and Komori since…..since it happened.”

“Shinsuke,” his friend says slowly. “I do not mean anything but this, but I have to say: I do not think that he is worthy of your affection if he insists on acting this way.”

If it were anyone else acting like this, Kita would agree with Ushijima in a heartbeat but Atsumu has been and will always be his every exception. “I can’t say I’m fond of his behavior myself,” he admits, pulling his knees up to his chest. “It sure ain’t the way I wished he’d handled it if he really did have a problem with anythin’ I said or did.” He sighs and the movement shakes his shoulder. “But he ain’t respondin’ to any of my texts or calls and I know he’d bolt the second he sees me. I’m at a loss of what to do here, Wakatoshi.”

“This would be easier if you did not have feelings for him,” Ushijima says, as if that hadn’t also occurred to Kita. He manages a wry smile, far too used to the others blunt nature to take that as anything more than the factual statement it was intended as.

“Yer right, but there ain’t anythin’ I can do about it at this point.”

“I suppose, then,” Ushijima says with a small nod to himself. “That your next best bet would be to go to the volleyball game and see if you can’t corner him afterwards.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kita doesn’t want to crash a game that Atsumu had violently opposed him coming to the last time they spoke, but he’s being left with very little choice if he ever wants to reconcile things with him. 

That night, he kneels at the side of his bed and claps his hands together and, for the first time in a while, prays.  _ The gods are always watching, Shinsuke  _ rattles in his brain, and he really, really hopes so.

It’s going to take nothing short of a miracle for that to work, but Fate’s not failed him so far.

*

Suna is not quite the answer he’d been expecting when he’d prayed for one, but he supposes beggars can’t be choosers. All he’d been doing was laying on his bed, debating the pros and cons of heading to the gymnasium for the game tonight, so really the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Hullo Suna,” he greets, shelving his confusion for the time being. The taller boy had straightened up when he’d opened the door to greet him, with a look of intense concentration on his face that was very out of place.

“Sorry for the intrusion Kita-san, but I think we should talk.”

“Might be a good idea,” he agrees, and allows Suna to step past him and settle into Atsumu’s empty desk chair. Kita sits down at his own desk, turns to face the other, and waits. 

“So,” Suna begins with a drawl, picking at his nails in a nervous habit Kita’s noticed he has. “I don’t have a delicate way to go about this, so I’m just going to be blunt.” He hesitates, maybe to see if Kita would be opposed to that, but when he gets no protest he continues. “Atsumu has been my friend for four years now. And I love him dearly, but, just in case you hadn’t noticed----he’s an idiot.”

Kita had, in fact, noticed that. Maybe not the way he would’ve put it, but it’s rooted in some truth. “He’s hard headed and stubborn, I’ll agree.” 

“God, understatement of the century.” Suna snorts. “And the reason I’m here.” The younger boy leans forward a bit in his chair. “Kita-san, how would you feel about coming to the game with ‘Samu and Komoroi and I tonight?”

There are several things to unpack in that question, so he starts with the easiest. “Osamu’s here?”

“Oh, right you wouldn’t know.” Suna runs a hand through his hair, distracted. “Yeah, I picked him up like two days ago because he’s the one person who has a 100% success rate when it comes to getting Atsumu to pull his head out of his ass.”

“I see.” Kita’s very much tempted to ask if Osamu’s had any luck in this situation, but doesn’t want to make demands that aren’t his business. He doesn’t have to worry about that though, because Suna tells him anyway.

“So he’s gotten Atsumu through the worst of it, but it’s still not all fixed because he’s a chickenshit who needs to be hyped up into an apology.” Suna explains. “So now it’s my turn to take over because I don’t think I’m ever going to be free from being the Miya twins babysitter. Such is my cross to bear and all that.”

“Ah.” Kita says, because he has nothing better to respond with.

“And so I’ll ask again: how would you feel about coming to the game with ‘Samu and me, so that as a unified front we can defeat Atsumu’s stupidity once and for all?”

“Well,” Kita says slowly, to give himself time to think. “I made a promise to go and I don’t like breakin’ promises I make. So I have no personal objections, but Atsumu did make it pretty clear he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of me goin’.” Why, he still doesn’t know, but he also doesn’t want to make Atsumu any more upset than he already is. And lord help him if it  _ is  _ because he’s come on too strong and spooked Atsumu.

“Oh, that was just him being dramatic.” Suna waves his hand dismissively. He, apparently,  _ does  _ know what’s been going on in his missing roommates head these past few days. “Besides, we cleared it with him first, he knows we’re going to invite you and is fine with it.” The way Suna says that makes Kita think that Atsumu was told what was going to happen and had very little choice but to go along with the plan.

There’s another knock at the door, and a familiar head pokes in. For one wild moment, Kita thinks Atsumu has been summoned just by having his name said one too many times, but then he realizes that the head of hair is a silvery gray and not a bright yellow. “Hullo Osamu.”

“Kita.” Osamu dips his head in greeting. He looks over at his boyfriend and asks, “Verdict is?”

“The verdict,” Kita interrupts before Suna can say anything. “Is that y’all have known something was wrong since the lakehouse and ya told me not to worry about it. Well, I’m worried ‘bout it now and I think it’s time y’all gave me some answers that you clearly have.”

Suna and Osamu share another look and Kita is this close to digging his heels in and cuffing both of them on the head until they spill the beans when Suna throws his hands up.

“Fuck it!” He declares, shoving himself up out of the chair.

“Rin!” Osamu says sharply, but he gets ignored.

“The full honest truth is that I can’t tell you the full truth because I swore to Atsumu I wouldn’t and this is something that he has to deal with on his own.” Suna says firmly. “So I can’t give that to you, but no one said anything about not dropping hints.”

“ _ Rin. _ ” Osamu repeats, exasperated. “He’s gonna kill ya if he founds out ya said anythin.”

‘He’ Kita assumes is referring to Atsumu in this case. “Babe with all due respect, Atsumu can eat a whole platter of my ass right now. Call this insurance if you’d like.”

Kita is still so horribly, horribly lost. He’s been confused for days now and he misses his mess of a roommate something fierce and none of this is helping. “Insurance for  _ what _ ?” He demands, slapping his hands onto his thighs. His outburst leaves a ringing silence in the room as both of the others blink at him, stunned by the rare show of emotion.

Osamu is the first to break it. “Kita-san.” He says. “I  _ promise  _ ya that we’re not tryin’ to be difficult on purpose.”

“Yeah and I know we aren’t the most reliable bunch but we do mean it.” Suna drags a hand down his face and Kita takes in the bags under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. Whatever’s been going on, Suna isn’t any more pleased with it than he himself is. “Look, what I can say is that Atsumu also has been having a shit week like the rest of us and he’s sworn on pain of death that he’s going to talk to you tonight after the game. And I know that he really does want you there, he’s just bad at being honest and processing his own emotions.”

Kita considers this. He takes in what he knows about Atsumu--wild, loud, hungry, but so unable to be close to others. He takes in Suna and Osamu’s appearance, how worn down they look, and he considers how he probably doesn’t look much better himself. And then he takes in the loyalty the trio have to one another, and what he knows their characters to be like. He breathes in, holds it for a moment, and lets it go. “Okay.” He says simply. “Okay, I believe y’all. Just…..” He steadies himself and presses on. “Atsumu ain’t mad at me, is he? He really ain’t gonna be sore at me if I come to the game?”

“He’ll be fine,” Osamu says dismissively. “Can’t believe yer so worried about his feelin’s even after he snapped at ya. Ya really are a good guy, aren’t ya Kita-san?”

“Why wouldn’t I be worried?” Kita blinks at them. “I thought the whole reason he was upset was ‘cause he found out that I liked him and he thought I was creepy or somethin’.”

The silence that follows THAT particular statement is even more telling than his frustrated outburst.

“I’m sorry.” Suna says, voice strained. “I’m sorry, you what now?”

He blinks at them. “I like Atsumu?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but this reaction has thrown him.

“Yeah but like….” Osamu seems to be struggling with his words as well. “Like, ya like ‘Tsumu or ya LIKE like him?”

For the sake of clarity (and his own sanity) Kita elaborates with, “I have romantic feelin’s for yer brother,” which is just an AWFUL sentence all the way around, even to his own ears, but Suna and Osamu don’t seem to care about his phrasing.

“Oh my god. Oh my FUCKING god.” Suna bursts out laughing, which wasn’t the reaction he expected at all. “Oh, TRUST us.” He wheezes out. “Atsumu is as far from being mad or creeped out as he can possibly get!” Vaguely, Kita wonders if he should be concerned with Suna’s sharp laughs when the other bolts up right, still looking far too pleased to put Kita at ease. “Oh, but I’ve had an Idea.” He walks over to Atsumu’s dresser and yanks it open, pawing through it. Kita debates scolding him for violating his roommates privacy, but if Osamu isn’t bothered by it he figures it can’t be too bad. “Hah!”

Suna yanks something out of the drawer but Kita doesn’t get a good look at it before it gets tossed at him. Reflexes have him snatching it out of the air, smoothing it out and laying the article of clothing on his bed. It’s a sweatshirt, one from their school store, with the mascot embroidered on the front. He’s seen Atsumu wear it as loungewear a number of times before, but can’t see anything extra special or remarkable about it. “What am I meant ta do with this, now?”

“You wear it.” Suna’s all teeth in his grin and Osamu’s eyes light up in understanding.

“Rin, sometimes I love the way yer brain works.”

“Thank you,” Suna says with a small bow. “There’s not a fool in the world who isn't weak for the boyfriend sweater tactic. Myself included,” he admits, and Osamu smiles at him.

“That’s real sweet and all,” Kita interrupts them. “But I think y’all are forgettin’’ somethin’ important.” They stare at him expectantly, and he can’t believe he has to state the obvious but he does anyway. “Like the part where I’m not actually datin’ Atsumu?”

The two of them share another Look. “Well, not yet at least.”

And if that isn’t the most ominous and promising thing he’s heard the whole semester, then what is?

*

Atsumu, just like he’d thought at the very beginning of the semester, shines brightest on the court. It’s this energy, this brilliance, this hard work that has bloomed into talent that Kita admires the most about his roommate. Atsumu is amazing in every sense of the word and Kita is so proud to be his friend, his roommate, his whatever-Atsumu-will-let-him-be.

Their team wins and Kita finds himself on his feet with the rest of the stadium, cheering wildly though he can’t even remember standing. All he can think about is how he’ll be glad to support Atsumu for the rest of his life, no matter what path the other takes. He will never EVER not be proud of him.

“That,” Suna roars, and it’s the most energy he’s ever seen the fox faced boy show, “Is our FUCKING idiot!!!” Osamu whoops in response.

“He had to be good for somethin’!”

The teams have lined up to shake hands post match now, and the stadium around them is bustling as people shuffle out of their seats and start heading for the doors. Kita’s blood is still thruming through his veins and his ears are ringing, so he takes a breath to steady himself, plucking at the sleeves of the too-big sweater he has on.

“Now what?” He glances over at the rest of their group. Komori has already gotten up and bounded down the steps in the direction of the locker room, presumably to go see his cousin, but Osamu and Suna are still standing next to him. Suna’s the one to respond, leaning back to clap him lightly on the shoulder.

“Now,” he says, voice hoarse from his earlier outburst. “Osamu’s going to go track down Atsumu, and  _ you’re _ going to sit right here and wait for him.  _ I’m  _ going to go guard the entrance so he can’t sneak out--not that I think he will,” he’s quick to add, seeing how Kita’s eyes narrow. Osamu snaps a salute at both of them and follows after Komori in the direction of the locker room. Suna trails after him, stopping at the end of their row to shoot a glance back at Kita. “Go easy on the idiot,” he says. “He’s a lot, but he does mean well deep down.” He’s gone before Kita can respond to that.

So he sits there. He claps his hands neatly in his lap, fingers toying with the extra fabric that swallows his hands whole and letting his mind go blank. He can’t do anything until Atsumu comes to him, so there’s no use in worrying about it anymore. He’ll just handle things as they come to him, and he’ll be honest this time. 

He sees Atsumu coming, tracks him across the gym as he wanders out of the hallway he knows leads to the lockers and dips out of sight for a second before reemerging at the far side of the bleachers, where there’s a gate leading into them. The younger boy hasn’t seemed to have noticed him yet, though Kita can see his lips moving as he speaks silently to himself.

He’s been told to sit and wait there, but he figures there’s no harm in meeting Atsumu halfway. After all, with the stadium emptying rapidly, it won’t be hard for them to find each other. He pushes himself off of the bench, readjusts Atsumu’s sweater so it’s sitting as properly on his shoulders as he can get it, and walks down the stairs, taking them one step at a time.

They arrive at the bottom of them at almost the same time, but Atsumu is still staring down and muttering to himself. Kita’s about to call out to him to him, but Atsumu takes another step forward and then another and then---

It’s like the first day of the semester all over again, only this time, Kita is well aware who has bumped into him. The force of the collusion sends him reeling backwards a bit, but unlike last time Atsumu is in a much better position to catch the both of them before they topple over. “Sorry,” the younger boy says and the deja vu that hits Kita is so wonderfully absurd he a tiny laugh escapes him before he can stop it.

He can pinpoint the exact moment that Atsumu realizes who it is he’s holding, who it is he’s walked into because the other boy goes ramrod straight and his eyes widen.

But he doesn’t look mad. A bit terrified, and a tad bashful, but Atsumu is looking at him, near him,  _ holding  _ him and the ache that’s been a constant presence in his chest since their fight eases up finally. “Well,” he says softly, around another laugh. “At least I managed ta stay on my feet this time this time ‘round.”

*

Kita wakes up to something warm and moving. He stays still for a few moments, but his pillow won’t stop squirming, so he’s left with no choice but to address the matter head on. “Good morning, Atsumu.”

His pillow stills abruptly, and a somewhat guilty “G’morning Ki--Shinsuke.” Atsumu’s voice catches on his first name, breathes it out with something akin to reverence. The way he says it is so very different from how it rolls of his grannie’s or Ushijima’s tongue. "I didn't wake ya up, did I?"

He hadn't. Atsumu must be all kinds of flustered to forget that Kita rises with the sun on any normal day, but Kita also thinks that it may do Atsumu some good to be humbled every now and then. "Never hada pillow that moved quite as much as ya do."

When Atsumu bends to press a kiss to his cheek in apology, he almost feels bad. Almost. "Yer phone was going off," Atsumu breathes out in explanation. "I was tryin' to silence it before it woke ya." Another kiss, this one on the curve of Kita's jaw. "Guess I didn't do such a good job on that one, huh?"

Kita hums, more at the gentle attention than the question. Humble Atsumu is warmer and softer version of the normal Atsumu he already loves, and lord help him, he wants to be selfish for just right now and bask in the affection. "Who was it?"

Fingers trace nonsensical patterns along the small of his back. "Dunno," Atsumu admits sheepishly. "I was so focused on hittin' reject I didn't think ta look at who it was." This time, Kita's the one who leans up to press a kiss right on Atsumu's collarbone, just because he _can_.

"Hand it ta me," he says. He doesn't bother moving from his position where he's curled around the other until something is tapped lightly against his shoulder. Only then does he move a hand from Atsumu's chest to blindly accept his phone, blinking at the bright screen. When he manages to read the notification flashing at him, he can see that he has a missed call. Seeing as it's a Saturday morning, he has a good guess of who it was who called him. He swipes his thumb across the notification, letting it redial the caller, who picks up immediately. "Good morning Granny."

"Good morning Shin-chan!" She chirps at him, and Atsumu almost chokes. Pressed as close as they are, Kita's sure he can hear her through the phone, even if it may be just a tad tinny. "It's already 8 and ya hadn't called me, so I was wonderin' about ya."

"Didn't mean ta sleep in that late," he tells her, which is the truth. “Just had a busy night.”

“The game, yeah?” She asks as if she doesn’t already know the answer to that. “Did y’all win?”

Kita hums in affirmation. “We did.” And, because he’s a simple man, not a saint, he can’t help but to add. “No small thanks ta Atsumu for the victory either.” The arms around him squeeze tightly, and Atsumu shoves his face down to hide the pleased flush that’s spreading across his cheeks. Kita decides, then and there, all’s fair in love and war and doubles down on his attempt to embarrass the other. “Granny,” he says, even as he reaches his free hand up to thread it through Atsumu’s hair. “I was wonderin’ if it would be alright for the both of us ta come visit ya again next weekend.”

She’s surprised by that, he can hear it when she tells him, “Of course ya can Shin-chan, I’d be delighted ta see the both of ya. Is there any special occasion this time?” By which she means ‘Are you and Atsumu both okay?’ and Kita’s love for the woman swells. 

“Matter of fact,” Kita says, fighting to keep a wide smile off his face. “I reckoned that I should introduce ya to my boyfriend properly.”

In his arms, Atsumu makes a noise that’s somewhere between a pained groan and a yelp of embarrassment, that certainly gets heard by his grannie who is laughing brightly and delighted. “Well then!” She says around her tinkling laugh, even as Atsumu fixes him with a look of wide eyed rapprochement. “That’s a special occasion indeed! I’ll be lookin’ forward ta seein’ the both of ya then!”

Kita bids her a goodbye, and he can’t have been off the phone for more than a second before Atsumu rolls away from him to lie flat on the bed, pressing his hands to face with a whine. “Shinsuke!”

“Hmm?” Kita props himself up on one elbow and takes a private moment to admire the curve of his roo--of his  _ boyfriend’s  _ body, the tan skin glowing in the sunlight peeking through the cracks of their window, the messy blonde hair that’s much softer to the touch than he ever expected.

“Ya have ta warn a man before ya say stuff like that!” 

“I didn’t say anythin’ that wasn’t true.” Kita points out. “And besides, ya’ve already met my grannie before.”

“This is different!” Atsumu protests loudly. “The last time she saw me, I was a mess!” Atsumu, Kita thinks to himself, is always a mess but he doesn’t seem to be aware of that simple fact of life. “God, she’s gonna think I’m a loser, Shinsuke, why’d ya hafta to just blurt it out like that to her, I--”

Because Kita, though he loves Atsumu dearly, isn’t interested in a hissy fit this morning and he  _ is  _ interested in keeping the other in his bed and close by for as long as possible, he rolls so that he’s on top of Atsumu, legs straddling his hips. “Atsumu,” he says, letting his hands rest on the other’s chest. “Yer talkin’ too much.” Atsumu looks like he has something to say in response to that, but Kita swoops down to kiss him, swallowing whatever retort had been on the tip of his tongue.

And wouldn’t you know, it does the trick. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! If you've stuck with this fic this long, thank you so much! This week was a lot of fun to participate in and it was nice to write something creatively after taking a break from it for so long. I totally didn't plan for it to be a chapter fic with a ridiculous word-count, but it worked out in the end lol.
> 
> (I also kinda sorta have a half baked idea for another fic if anyone would be interested.....? 👉👈)


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